


And The Reason Comes

by whatacartouchebag



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Ch31 sees them getting a lil handsy here, Clover is a soft and patient man, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Qrow doesn't remember what feeling like this means, Ruby is a worrying mother hen, Slow Burn, Winter puts the fear of death into everyone, blink and you'll miss it Bumbleby, brief talk of alcoholism, let Qrow be soft with his family, like HELLA SLOW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 220,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21970195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatacartouchebag/pseuds/whatacartouchebag
Summary: A challenge between two huntsmen ends in Misfortune.Both felt at the fragile glass around them, not wanting to push too hard. Not wanting to shatter this delicate balance.So he raised the hammer between them and swung at the glass.Set after Volume 7, Episode 4.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen & Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 575
Kudos: 800





	1. Badges And Birds

**Author's Note:**

> I've written a few pieces for the RWBY fandom way way way back around when Volume 2 was airing, but actually fell out of watching the show just shy of Qrow appearing. Needless to say, I'm back in the series again and this is my first big offering in a long while! Enjoy, it's gonna be a long ride for this lost bird. And apparently it's not a true 40K+ slowburn h/c fic for me unless a character breaks their arm ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Title comes from Hozier's Moment's Silence:
> 
> And it's easy done  
> Our little remedy  
> And the reason comes on the common tongue of your loving me

It had been an age since he had last felt comfort out here. Not so much the kingdom where he stood – he could care less about where in the world he placed his feet – but the air about him seemed different.

Calm, where once a melancholy sense of unease sat.

Acceptance, where he used to only feel an overwhelming sense of apprehension.

Red eyes glanced skywards, a hand coming up to shield them from the lightly falling snow, and he felt he really couldn’t describe the shift in his feelings, or even when it began.

Being in this kind of land, the ground blanketed in white and the trees looking for all the world like they’d been dusted with icing sugar, it’s something that only served to prick at his memories. Bad things happened in the snow, simple as that. _Especially_ bad things, given the very last time he’d been out in the damn stuff.

That time, how ever short ago, seemed so very far away from where he now stood. So many things had changed, and himself being the primary one.

Qrow lowered his arm and his gaze back to the horizon. He had demons; more than most people. It just took nearly losing everyone he ever called family in one fell swoop to shake them out of his tree. They rattled him fiercely on their way down and left him shaking in his own thoughts when they finally hit the ground.

Booted feet scrunched softly as he made his way down the still path. Demons never truly died, he knew that all too well. Hell, they usually played dead with him until he had a chance to get a few paces ahead of them.

Just his luck.

The thought brought a soft quirk to his lips and he shook his head lightly.

Here he was, trudging through the snow once more, and could think only of the bad luck that surrounded him. And he thought he had changed…

He caught the sigh that sat on his tongue as he glanced back at the path he’d walked. Realisation stirred in the forefront of his mind and the frown settled on his brow. Come to think of it, he’d been rather alone out here for a while now. Which was not at _all_ what he wanted. He turned his gaze forward once more, red eyes scanning what he could see in the trees ahead. The quiet that wrapped about him was a tad too much for a mere snowfall; the ambience of birds and other wildlife suddenly absent about him. He gave a faint noise of thought, walking off the path and disappearing into foliage.

Within seconds, there was a scuffling of undergrowth, and the furious beating of wings as a raven shot up into the sky.

Red eyes flicked across the ground, dark head twisting this way and that as the bird wheeled higher and higher into the sky, scanning the land beneath it. It sought it’s prey with keen senses as the wind whistled through it’s feathers. With a sudden cry, it dove once more, choosing a branch overlooking the path and settling onto it with a flapping of feathers and a light dislodging of snow.

The bird gave a sudden shake, feathers fluffing up in an attempt to ward off the cold from the impromptu flight. It reached up with one clawed foot, giving a rapid little scratch to the back of its head and shaking it once more, sending more snow from its perch tumbling to the ground.

It settled once more, dark eyes watching for its approaching prey, and waited.

Luck seemed to be on its side, as a man came wandering into view not moments later, and the bird cocked its head to the side, getting a better look at the shiny trinkets that adorned his uniform. He seemed entirely alone in this cold world, looking around him for anything that seemed familiar.

With a sudden cry and a flapping of wings, the bird launched from its perch, streaking towards the man, intent on its prize. The wanderer turned at the sound and couldn’t help the instinct to duck as the bird raked it’s talons through the space where his chest used to be. The bird, startled at the sudden alteration to its flight path, gave a startled cry and furiously beat its wings to change directions or slow.

There was a soft crunch of snow and foliage as it dived into a collection of undergrowth at the side of the path, and a string of loud, distressed squawking met the man’s ears.

The man, for the most part, was left utterly surprised at what had happened in the space of a few seconds, and he jogged over to where the bird landed. He pushed back the branches, green eyes searching for the bird, and was equally surprised when he saw Qrow laying in the snow, clutching at his arm and cursing like he was writing a thesaurus.

Clover jerked his head back, clearly not processing this.

“ _Qrow?_ ”

The sour words ended with a hiss as the man in question pushed himself to a seated position, snow falling off him in clods.

“Gah, I _almost_ had it!” he growled, pain lancing through his expression.

The brunet took a moment to calculate everything, turning back to gawk at the flight path of his attacker, then back at the huntsman before the surprised laugh tore through him. “Are you- that was _you?_ ”

Red eyes glared up at him, sore from both landing and defeat. Clover took the admission in stride and laughed even harder.

“You know, I was expecting one hell of a trick in order to win, but that was… something else.”

“Wait’ll you see my next party trick,” Qrow replied with a huff. He placed his hand to the ground to push himself up, but gave a sharp gasp instead, all weight coming off it and whipping over to cradle his arm once more. Clover saw it and sobered from his mirth; he knew what that kind of injury meant.

Qrow hissed softly, flexing his fingers lightly. “Mn… thought I hit the deck pretty hard…”

A hand fell to his shoulder, other fingers curling in a beckoning motion, and the huntsman offered his good hand to the man. With a grunt of effort, Clover slung the man’s good arm over his shoulder and helped him stand, watching him carefully to ensure he could take his own weight before releasing him gently.

“How did you manage-” Clover cut his own words off, realising what he was asking, settling on shaking his head instead. “I’m guessing it’s not your… first time… crash landing?”

Qrow gave a quiet noise of thought as his arm hung at his side. “Kids generally learn to crawl before they walk. Once they start running, it’s all over. Then you give a kid with a semblance like mine a set of wings instead…” he left the statement dangling.

“You’ve got a whole new set of bruises to work out…” the man finished. At the quiet affirmation, Clover couldn’t help but look over the man, still really not believing what had just happened. He glanced back at the path behind them, replaying the scene in his head. For all intents and purposes, he thought it was an honest to goodness raven swooping at him.

“How… long have you…” he trailed off, turning his gaze back to the huntsman. Red eyes blinked back at him, quickly darting away; feeling more sore than sheepish.

“Short answer? More than half my life. It’s… kind of a long story, one that I don’t think two guys without sleeves want to get into while standing out in the snow.”

At that, Clover smiled broadly. At least the landing hadn’t rattled his sense of humour.

“And here I thought you wanted to get out of Atlas for some relaxation,” he remarked. “What could be more relaxing than the freezing outdoors, talking about our shady pasts, and nursing my good friend’s broken arm?”

Qrow _did_ laugh at that, glad he didn’t break a rib in the process. He held up his good hand in order to help stop himself, but it still didn’t stop the faint wince from crossing his expression once more. Perhaps he _did_ break more than his arm after all.

Clover sighed, placing a hand to his shoulder and guiding them back out onto the path. “See? Nothing better.”

“Ah, I’m fine _dad_ ,” Qrow told him with a gentle push to the man’s chest, putting a little space between them. “Not my first rodeo, that’s for sure. And I know there’s something up there on that flying pizza to fix it.”

Their friendly banter continued as they walked through the snow, Clover helping to offer a rather needed distraction as the cold began to seep into the huntsman. Pain was one thing; cold, another. The two together were never wonderful in either of their opinions.

It had also been an age since Qrow felt like he’d smiled at this many terrible jokes, and he wondered if Clover ever thought of turning his distraction into a profession if he ever decided to quit the Ace Ops.

Time seemed to shift a little between them as they walked. True, they could’ve both abused some privilege and organised some quicker transportation, but it still felt nice to have some time to themselves. Somewhere far away from the streets of Atlas and the responsibilities that governed both their lives.

Even if the circumstances were less than ideal.

Ironwood _did_ tell everyone to go do whatever it was they wanted. In their case it meant Qrow taking a breather from the buttoned up, stuffy workings of Atlas, and Clover sort of acting like his unofficial minder. Truth be told, it was good for Clover to tag along, because they worked well together, and he wanted to understand the guy and his semblance a little better. It was his idea to propose their little competition once they were down on the ground, and Qrow, much like his nieces, couldn’t really turn down a good chance to strut his stuff.

Of course, like all things that seemed to sail into his life, his semblance decided to sail him right into a gods-forsaken bush.

Qrow nursed his arm gently as they walked, careful not to jostle it to much with his gait. Clover, too, was mindful of how he walked next to the man, watching carefully for any signs of labouring. He knew Qrow was either too proud or stubborn to accept any further help, and he’d obviously lived long enough to limp home with worse injuries before. Hell, they both had, really. It was the nature of their lives.

Green eyes glanced up at the path before them, relief touching him as he saw their transport in sight. Not that he was truly worried by any stretch, but it meant that Qrow could stop with the facade of being _fine_ for a little while. Even if only behind closed doors.

“Still, I’m kind of curious,” Clover started, confusion tinting his expression as they met eyes. “Why call out your presence if you had the _complete_ element of surprise?”

It took Qrow a second before the murmur left his lips, turning his gaze away. “Look, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

He opened his mouth to reply, meeting green eyes once more. Words seemed to falter on his tongue and he sighed heavily, deciding just to roll with what sounded good in his head.

“I might be the one in control – mostly – but the bird brain is still a bird brain, and when it it gets excited by shiny things, or startled, well…”

“Or crashes into a bush.”

“Or that, yeah.”

Clover gave a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He _really_ couldn’t wait to hear the explanation of all of this, _especially_ from how casually Qrow seemed to talk about it. If it really was something he’d been living with for most of his life, he was mentally on the edge of his seat wanting to hear more. An honest to goodness magical transformation – that _wasn’t_ a semblance as far as he knew – right in front of him in this day and age.

“You know, that’s fair, given everything that’s happening lately. At the end of the day, if birds can still be birds, there’s a little hope left in this world.”

“Hey, I’m a human being first and foremost, you know,” came the grumble. “It’s just… sometimes… Look, I can’t help it if I get excited over shiny things, alright?”

Clover crooked an amused brow at him. “I thought it was the bird and _not_ you.”

The huntsman gave a grumble at his poor choice of words, glaring up at the small aircraft before them. He was glad when the conversation seemed to dwindle a little after that. It helped hide the utter shame he’d just had to go through. Qrow was used to experiencing a much grander form of aggression, rather than the simple ribbing and jibing of companionship at his expense. It had been a while since he’d practised sarcasm directed inwards rather than at the world around him.

Well, sarcasm and not pessimism, like he was _certainly_ wont to do in the past.

He had come a long way, he mused.

It still felt an age ago that he had first conceded his secret to the teams at both Ozpin and Yang’s pressing, and he couldn’t wait to escape the unease that sat under his skin in that room. For the longest time, he felt fury at Raven for having exposed him like that, when in reality, he now thought of it as another asset to his life huntsman. Just one that was more easily accessible when he didn’t have to slink about in the shadows to utilise it.

He slid into the co-pilot’s seat and closed his eyes with a groan, all but melting into it with soft relief. Despite being a giant chunk of flying metal, it felt vastly warmer inside, out of the wind and away from the snow. He willed himself not to sigh heavily; here he was, quite easily using his transformation and _talking_ with a veritable stranger about it.

He really _had_ come a long way.

There was a soft nudge at his shoulder and red eyes blinked at the offered bottle. He baulked a little.

“Oh, uh… no thanks, I’m good.”

Clover gave a short snort. “It’s not for you. It’s for your arm.” He held up his other hand, producing a couple of tablets. “ _This_ is to take the edge off.”

Qrow stared back at it, actually _reading it_ this time, and sheepishly took the numbing agent and tablets after leaning forward and settling his injured arm in his lap. Of course the ship was fully stocked with medical supplies, he thought, tipping his head back and dropping the tablets into his mouth. Not the tastiest of things, but hell if he wanted the alternative. Clover sat in the pilot’s seat and turned to face him, nudging Qrow’s foot to do the same. He placed the small kit of supplies on the floor next to him and proceeded to switch out his standard gloves for a pair of latex ones, holding one out for Qrow.

“Just give me a dose of that stuff, but keep in mind, how much is going to be up to you,” he explained. “I’d probably recommend about as much as what you would squeeze on a hot dog.”

“What kinda hot dogs are _you_ eating?”

“I prefer ones so spicy they leave your mouth numb, but feel free to take a swig and compare.”

Qrow’s smile broke into a wide grin and he squirted a generous amount into the man’s hand. Placing it to the floor, he gently scooped his arm up once more and presented it to the other man. Gloved fingers rested gently against his skin and Clover paused for a moment.

“Not sure if you’ve ever used this before, but it’ll feel like ice stinging your skin and then a blissful kind of nothing. The effects last for-”

“For about three hours or so, give or take how much of a swig you use,” Qrow finished for him. “You seem to forget that James and I go way back. _And_ I believe you’ll find it was him who started development of the stuff about ten years ago, before it got taken over by some other biotech company under the licensing of the Atlesian Military. After a few years of languishing on the sidelines, they had a breakthrough and managed to find a way to mass produce the stuff without all the nasty side effects the pure strain was causing, and full production began. Distribution hit an all-time high through the military, and casualties actually started coming down in numbers.”

Clover couldn’t help but stare back at the man, a little lost for a second.

“I mean, I could keep going about _how_ and _why_ it’s helped reduce those numbers, but that’s boring science talk and-”

“No! No it’s, it’s fine,” Clover interrupted him not-so-gently. Qrow laughed at him softly.

“Just hurry up and slap your hot dog sauce on me, I’m dying over here.”

Clover mirrored the man’s laugh with his own, shaking his head softly, gently beginning to rub the gel into skin.

“You know, most people would skip trying to memorise the ‘boring science talk’ and move on, but that’s… something else,” he told him, hearing the soft hiss from the huntsman as the effects began to kick in. “Quite a sharp memory for detail you’ve got there.”

“Well, that’s what you get in this kind of business,” came the strained reply as nerve endings protested their enforced sleep with vicious firing. It took a decent effort not to jump out of his skin, but he also knew from experience it would be somewhat worse if he did just that. “Gotta have an eye for detail to get the full picture.”

“Is that you or the bird talking?”

“Am I gonna have to deal with eternal bird jokes from now on?”

The twinkle in Clover’s eyes gave him all the answer he needed as he gently released his arm, reaching for more supplies.

“Though you’re going to have to tell me…”

He gave a noticeable pause as he methodically unfolded the sling on his lap, meeting those eyes once more.

“What _was_ the meaning of all those words you were saying when you landed?” The amused smirk couldn’t help but sit on his entire expression as he innocently went about preparing the simple brace within the sling.

“I mean, I’ve been with the military most of my life, but you nearly got _me_ blushing with some of those phrases.”

Qrow felt the heat creep to his ears, eyes widening as realisation punched him in the jaw.

Oh.

_Oh._

He gave a short cough, blinking rapidly as he was caught out and turning his gaze away to stare out at the snowy landscape beyond the airship.

“L-Look, it’s not- I mean, I was probably going into shock, so it really wasn’t as bad as you say it is,” he stammered, “and it’s not like I haven’t heard James say worse befo-”

His words cut off in a sharp intake of breath as Clover clipped the hard brace about his arm. He still couldn’t shake the wince as the man gently lifted his broken arm into the sling, placing fingertips nearly against his collarbone and standing up to knot it at the back of his neck.

“Geez, buy a girl dinner first…” came the disgruntled murmur. He did, however, have to admit that it felt worlds better than before, and he gingerly flexed his fingers. Clover gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he sat back down again, reaching for his scroll and tapping through a few simple commands.

“Alright, do that again for a second,” he told him, pointing to his fingers. Qrow gave another gentle flex, barely moving at all, but not _really_ wanting to push the tenuous friendship with his body.

Clover gave a satisfied nod as he looked over his scroll, tucking it away and meeting those red eyes as he tugged latex gloves off with a snap. “Good news – it looks like it’s just a simple fracture. That’s easily fixed once we get topside.”

Qrow swivelled forward in his seat once more, sighing heavily and closing his eyes. “Lemme guess, the bad news is I won’t be flying for a while, huh doc?”

“You could say that. Maybe take a couple of weeks to get some reading in. Go see a couple of movies. Start a revolution; that’s what all the kids are doing these days.”

The huntsman gave a quiet laugh at that. “I could start by winning a bet.”

Confusion crossed Clover’s face before he realised those words sharply, staring down at his chest and fingers brushing across his missing emblem. How did he- He didn’t even _feel_ \- Green eyes glanced back up at the man, not at all expecting the smug expression that greeted him.

Wait, when he pushed away from him in the snow, that’s when Qrow must’ve light-fingered it off his vest, Clover thought, startled. Just what other surprises did this huntsman have up his sleeve?

“Gotta admit, not the way I planned it, but looks like I came out on top after all.”

Qrow ducked his fingers into a pocket and withdrew the small badge, turning it over in his fingers before flipping it up in the air like a coin. He grinned as he snatched it from the air, turning his gaze back to still surprised green.

“My lucky day, huh?”

The brunet took a moment to compose himself before he smiled gently at the other man. When the simple item was held out to him, he placed his hand over the other’s, pushing it gently back.

“Tell you what, why don’t you hang onto it for a while.” At the sudden shift of a surprised expression, Clover lowered his hand, turning to face forward in his seat. “Something tells me you don’t want to go crashing into anymore trees in the near future – bird or not,” he explained, grasping the controls and going through the procedure of starting the aircraft.

Qrow seemed taken aback by the offer, feeling the dynamic of the conversation tilt once more. All at once, he sat there in almost quiet awe of this man. He’d managed to turn the tide on the huntsman yet again, and it still rattled him how easily it could happen. _Keep_ happening. It wasn’t the first time Clover had ever so efficiently used his words to slip under his skin and jolt his senses.

Red eyes glanced down to the little charm in his fingers, turning its smooth surface into the light and vaguely hearing the whine of the engines over his thoughts.

“Thanks…”

The breath of gratitude slipped from him, lost in the sound of take-off, and they jostled slightly with the shift of momentum as Clover guided them skywards. The huntsman shook his thoughts free from the simple offering as he tucked it back into his pocket; clearly it was no light gesture on Clover’s behalf, and Qrow could appreciate the hell out of that.

It would be as if he had given part of Harbinger to the man, which was a thought that didn’t sit well with him at _all_.

He turned his attention back to the world outside, watching as they approached Mantle, the giant tethers from Atlas above sinking deep between the buildings. Clover guided them ever upwards, spiralling in a lazy arc towards the shining capital. There was a brief time when they ducked through some nearby clouds, and as the sky broke through once more, there Atlas sat; gleaming in the light of the sun.

The radio sparked to life on their approach, and Qrow tuned out the military chatter as he leaned back in his seat, feet propping up on the console. He _also_ ignored the sideways glance the action drew in favour of closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. It had only been a few weeks since they first arrived in the capital, but already the man was bone weary.

After everything that had brought them this far, all he wanted was some rest. Of course, the first time he allows himself to do just that, he goes and manages to slam into a tree, but at least he kept it exciting.

The smile curled lightly on his lips and he allowed himself to relax into the curve of the seat. For all their strict and stuffy military advancements, they sure managed to get the comfy chair technology down; something he was kind of grateful for in the moment. It felt all too easy to allow himself to kind of drift.

The hum of the aircraft beneath, the drugs kicking into his system, the fact that he had a little luck – _actual_ luck – tucked away for a rainy day… maybe he didn’t mind the snow as much as he first thought.

Maybe being around a good luck charm like Clover wasn’t the terrible thing he first thought it to be after all…

 _That_ thought brought the faint smile to his lips once more, and let himself settle into the gentle motion of the aircraft, barely feeling the simple corrections his pilot made as they continued gliding through the air.

It felt all too easy to let himself slip further and further into unconsciousness, drifting down with blissful relief that simple healing brought him. And he was just tired.

So, so tired…

And the world slipped out from beneath him, blanketing his senses in blissful darkness.


	2. Casts And Challenges

There was a jostle around him and he startled from his mental dozing, drawing a sharp breath and sitting bolt upright once more. As he gathered his bearings, he saw that they'd landed in Atlas, and it was... early afternoon. He blinked back at Clover, still a little disoriented.

“Thought I'd let you sleep the rest of the way in; seems like you needed it.”

Qrow, still struggling to gather his groggy thoughts, stared dumbly outside, then back at the man.

“It was _daytime_ when we left.”

“ _And_... rest is very good for a patient.”

The simple reply brought him up short and he pinched the bridge of his nose, still shaking off the effects of his impromptu nap.

“So... what, you let me take a nap for a few hours while you buzzed the city?” he murmured.

“Not exactly. As it so happened, I needed to head to a couple of places today, so whilst my co-pilot took some much needed rest, I cleared out my to-do list,” came the easy explanation. Qrow gave a soft snort at that.

“Careful, if Ironwood hears about you leaving your kids in the car, he'll blow his top.”

Clover waved him off. “I think he'd understand the temptation at times, believe me.”

That earned him a soft laugh, and after a quiet beat, Clover released the controls to power off the aircraft by means of several switches, standing up and offering the huntsman a hand.

“Well then, I don't think you want to have to explain all of this to your nieces alone.”

Qrow gave a wry smile at that, taking the proffered hand. “Believe me, I'll be fine. It's  _you_ who'll have to answer to Ruby as to why her uncle was injured under  _your_ charge.”

The brunet gave a mock wince. “I also have some urgent business that needs-”

“Oh _no_ buddy, you're not getting away that easy. Besides,” he drew his hand up to rest gently on Clover's shoulder. “If you just stick to the truth, Ruby might still get upset, but she'll take it down about thirty pegs because you were honest. Kid's probably going to be too busy fretting up a storm to really notice anyway.”

Clover returned the easy smile with his own. “I can see where she gets her honesty from.”

Once more, the sharp and insightful comment from the man derailed the huntsman's brain, and he stared back at him. Clover took that as his cue to let the man take the lead, and they exited the airship together.

Through the brief disembarking procedure, Qrow had time to gather himself again, squarely in time for the shrill cry of his name to light up the sky. He turned to face the red and black streak of chaos as she barrelled towards them, and thankfully –  _thankfully_ – she screeched to an utter halt a few inches from latching onto him, noticing the very new injury to her uncle.

“Uncle Qrow! What'd- How did this happen are you okay?” she gushed, not taking her eyes from the sling as she all but bounced in place. “Does it hurt? Do you need anything? We need to get you to the infirmary right away!”

He held up his good hand, bringing her down a notch. “Easy, sunshine. I'm fine.” He gestured to the man at his side. “Clover here patched me up. It's a little sore, but I'll live.”

“But how..? You two were just supposed to take the day off! That doesn't usually lead to a... a this!”

The poor girl was nothing but a little ball of distress and Clover took it upon himself to step forward. “We had a training mishap; nothing more. I wanted to put both our skills to the test and challenged him to steal the pin from my uniform, and, well...”

Qrow fished the little emblem from his pocket and smirked at the young lady. “I won.”

“He kind of cheated.”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

“You turned into a bird, Qrow.”

“Hey, use the tools you got, pal,” he shrugged, tucking his prize into his pocket once more. “But yeah, I kind of... misjudged my landing.”

“If his landing zone was the tree, he got full marks.”

“ _Hilarious_ , really.”

Ruby froze a little. “Uncle Qrow, you hit a  _tree?_ As a  _bird?_ You could have broken your neck!” She paused a beat, her brain catching up to her mouth. “Wait, you told Clover about your ability?”

He waved a hand. “Entirely unintentional. I wasn't even going to show the guy until my semblance kicked in at the wrong moment.” He gave a heavy sigh, glancing over at him. “But, well... lucky for me, it was a right place right time kind of scenario. Sure was better than limping home in the snow.”

“You've got a _broken arm!_ ” Ruby reminded him sharply.

“ _Which_ I'm going to get checked out, if you want to tag along,” Qrow offered, deflating a little. In a sudden rush, he felt the tiredness crawl into him again, and he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was sure he wasn't wavering on the spot, but with the medication dragging through his system and his eyes closed, it was kind of hard to tell.

A hand curled atop his shoulder, bringing him gently back to his surroundings.

“Ruby, help me get your uncle down to the infirmary, would you?” Clover asked her, and she immediately darted to his good side, tucking his arm over her shoulders.

He almost let himself tell them to back off, that he was fine, he could walk by himself, but he also knew his own limits pretty well by now. And he also knew the girl wouldn't back down from  _this_ kind of mission at all. So, he allowed himself to be escorted the short walk to the medical facility. As luck would have it, it was one of the closest stops from the landing site. Made sense, his mind decided. What kind of military would they be without placing their infirmary right next to it?

As soon as the trio stepped through the doors, they were guided to a nearby bed and Qrow all but forced to lay there and wait like a good patient by one very persuasive teenager. A doctor soon came over, going through all the physical assessments and ending up very satisfied with the field medicine he received.

Clover relayed precisely what he'd done and what he'd given the huntsman, showing him the field scans on his scroll, and the doctor seemed happy enough to simply change the brace to a more suitable cast. Ruby seemed relieved beyond compare. Qrow wanted the whole attention-smothering affair to be over and done with already.

He reached up to undo the knot from his sling, letting it fall free and offering his arm to the doctor.

“Do your worst already,” came the dry comment. The doctor relented with a soft laugh.

“Alright, let me get my things together. Although, you'll want to take off your effects first.”

The man walked away, leaving the huntsman to internally baulk at the suggestion. Ruby noticed the sudden apprehension in her uncle and took his hand gently, warmth in her smile.

“Don't worry, I can hold onto to them if you'd like.”

Qrow hesitated a moment before slipping his hand from hers. “Ah... yeah, that'd be great. Thanks, kiddo.” He gingerly removed the rings from his fingers, taking care not to move his arm too much, and there was a moments pause where he held them in his hand. It felt a lot lighter without them on; like something was missing. He was just... lending them out to family for a while. Yeah.

His brows pinched lightly as he passed them to Ruby, letting them fall into her hand. She squeezed them lightly, tucking them safely into her pocket before helping him with his bracelet. Clover, for all his keen insight, blessedly said nothing.

When the doctor returned, it was a simple matter of switching out the man's brace for something a little sturdier. Though, thankfully, Qrow had been right about the medical advancements in the Atlesian Military; instead of the usual clunky affair he was expecting, the cast was something small and simple. Almost like a thick sweater sleeve coming down to cover the back of his hand.

Just a lot tougher than one.

With a final rap of knuckles against the solid surface, the doctor sat back from his work.

“Well, give your fingers a gentle flex – nothing too far now.” At Qrow's response, he flicked eyes back up to the huntsman. “Any pain? Tightness anywhere?”

“Feels pretty good. Thanks doc.” He let the cast sit in his lap. “The usual six to eight weeks? No heavy lifting for a while?”

At the end of the bed, Clover gave a quiet laugh. “You might know a  _little_ bit about our medical advancements, but I wasn't kidding when I said take a couple of weeks off.” He pointed to the cast. “Keep out of any real trouble, and you'll be back here in about twenty days, give or take.”

Ruby was stunned. “That's so awesome! The last time I broke my arm, it took nearly two months and dad was furious the entire time!” Qrow laughed at her.

“That's because you wouldn't stop climbing trees, squirt,” he reached up to ruffle her hair lightly. “Still, good news, I suppose.”

“It was a clean break; you were lucky,” the doctor commented. The huntsman tried not to let the acidic comment sit too heavily on his tongue, and instead he swung his legs off the side of the bed. He'd had just about enough of luck and good fortune today.

“Well, guess I'll be seeing you.” He stood up, resisting the urge to run a thumb across where rings once sat. “I've got a date with my bed and I don't wanna stand it up.” He made a motion to head to the door; a hand catching his arm as he went. Red eyes met silver, and Ruby gently let him go.

“Just... take it easy, okay Uncle Qrow?” she asked him softly. His expression softened lightly and he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“No wild parties, got it,” he gave her a wry smile. At her light frown he smiled back at her. “I know, I know. No more accidents, I promise; I've even got a lucky charm with me this time.”

She sighed softly at him and as he dropped his hand, she latched onto him with a tight hug. Fingers stroked her hair softly in a one handed hug before she gently pulled back from him. Her scroll chimed and she hastily dug it out of a pocket, startling lightly.

“Oh no, I'm late! I promised to meet Weiss and the others for dinner tonight!” she exclaimed.

“You do realise the sun's still up, right?” Qrow remarked.

“Yeah, but we were gonna go explore the city beforehand with Penny and, and-!”

Clover held up a hand. “I can get Qrow settled in his room,” he offered. “Go be with your team.” There was a momentary rapid-fire debate in the girl's mind where she scrambled to come up with the right answer, utterly failing to find a counter argument to Clover's words, and knowing she'd all but told her uncle to take care of himself already. With a soft whine, she snatched her uncle up in another final hug and took off for the door.

“Thanks Clover you're the best! No more trees Uncle Qrow! I love you bye!!”

Her words barely lasted through the doors as she streaked away, leaving the two men wondering what they'd just witnessed. Qrow reached up to rub the back of his neck.

“She never changes...” came the quiet murmur.

The doctor raised an eyebrow from where he'd been packing up his gear. “Trees? Please don't tell me this happened because you were climbing trees in the snow.”

Qrow snorted softly. “I'm way too old for that kind of fun,” he replied drily. “Nah, we were training and my aura picked the wrong time to run out. Golden boy here's one hell of a huntsman.” There was a brief nod at his words, seeming satisfied with the response.

“Clover isn't the leader of the Ace Operatives for nothing. Still, it's a good idea to go and rest up – _especially_ now since you've told me your aura ran out on the field.”

“Sure thing. Thanks again doc.” The huntsman gave a mock salute and a brief smirk, exiting the infirmary with Clover. He drew back on the low sigh that sat upon his tongue as they walked through the stark halls.

It felt a little odd, though it really could still have been the drugs floating about his system; for all the misfortune he'd encountered during the day, it... had been a good day. It wasn't all that often he got to take to the skies without it being for a mission, or to scout around for danger. He got to spend the day with someone he was almost rapidly considering a friend, something he was in dire short supply of.

He even had the chance to have some simple fun and relax – _really_ relax – even if the nap on the way back had been a little enforced.

Alright, it might have had everything to do with the drugs in his system, but it still felt... good.

“Family heirloom?”

The question at his side drew him from his thoughts and he glanced over at Clover.

Green eyes ducked downwards briefly. “Your rings. You seemed hesitant to take them off.”

There was a brief 'oh' in his mind and he idly brushed a thumb across the missing jewellery in response.

“You could say that,” he began. His lips parted, but the words died on his tongue as he thought about _how_ to actually put it into words. It wasn't exactly a topic he had ever discussed with anyone. The light crease found his brow and he tucked his good hand into his pocket.

“Aside from my living family... they're all I have left of...”

He trailed off before he could say it. The word felt foreign in his head, and even stranger on his tongue.

He lowered his gaze, the light frown on his brow deepening. He hadn't had what he'd call home in so long, but to think about his old clan... It was a lifetime ago. Before Summer and Taiyang. Before Beacon. Before...

Before everything that had changed his life.

“What _used_ to be home.”

He gave a one-shoulder shrug, seemingly shaking off the words with the action, and he gave the man a lazy sort of smile.

“Guess I just got so used to wearing them, being without them feels a little strange, y'know?” He flicked a pointed gaze to Clover's chest. “Probably like you and your namesake there, am I right?”

Green eyes all but stared through him in silence, analysing everything that he'd heard. It would have been a little unnerving if Qrow hadn't been expecting it; it wasn't exactly a straight answer to a simple question. He turned his gaze forward again and gave a heavy sigh.

“Look pal, you asked, alright?”

“No, I appreciate it.”

Red eyes flicked back to the man.

“You might play everything close to your chest, but that's also exactly where you keep your family,” Clover explained. “It's not just in what you say, but also what you don't. And that can be a hard game to play.” Green eyes turned back to the path before them. “Speaking from my position, I know where you're coming from,” he admitted quietly. “It can be... tough... keeping up appearances.”

They continued on in relative silence for a beat, Clover glancing down at the ground briefly.

“So. Thank you. I appreciate the honesty.”

Qrow made a faint huff of amusement, the wry smirk sitting on his lips. At the meeting of their eyes, he tilted his head towards him briefly.

“Anyone ever tell you that if you quit the military, you'd make a great career out of being a shrink?”

Clover offered him a simple smile. “More than once in my life. However, I'm happy right where I am; it'll be a long day before I leave Atlas.”

“Least that'll keep James happy...” Qrow replied, tucking his other hand into his pocket. James himself was a whole other can of worms that he did _not_ want the conversation steering towards, and he almost kicked himself for letting the words slip from him. He willed himself not to sigh in exasperation before the rest of whatever he was going to say was suddenly snatched up in a deep yawn, leaving him to shake his head lightly.

“Getting past your bedtime, old man?”

“Nah, just tired of putting up with my babysitter.”

“Funny, I thought we were partners.”

_That_ brought Qrow up short and he frowned at the man. “Last I checked, I wasn't a part of the Ace Ops, and the only reason we've worked together – once – was because of the mission plan.”

Clover conceded with a nod. “And, on that mission, we were partners.”

“ _And_ , like I already _told you_ , I'm a better fighter on my own.”

His ire was starting to rise, and he knew he couldn't help it. It had always been a sore subject for him, many times over in the past – effectively  _proven_ many times in the past. Hell, if it weren't for his sheer skill as a huntsman, he'd probably have wound up dead many times over by now.

It bothered him to no end that no matter how many times he told people about his semblance, all they ever wanted to do was to get closer to him. There  _was_ no fixing it. There was just dealing with the ramifications.

He felt the shadow creep through the back of his mind, and already it was souring an otherwise good day. He knew he'd pushed his luck too far since meeting the guy; the irony of the phrase not lost on him at all.

“Qrow.”

The almost gentle call of his name was enough to pull the bitterness out of him by a hair.

“Listen-”

A hand fell to his shoulder and the huntsman stopped walking; Clover ending up a pace ahead of him. Red eyes met green, and already the man could feel the walls sliding firmly back into place about the other. He wanted to sigh; he really did. For all his talk of bad luck and misfortune, he did nothing but shut people out unnecessarily. If only he could see that that was the greatest cause of his pain.

Perhaps he wasn't privy to everything that had gone on in his life, but he knew enough from the General and Winter, and certainly more than enough from his own observations.

He let his hand fall, allowing the space to settle between them.

“I don't mean to push, but we fought well together out there,” he told him gently. “I'm not inferring anything else. And if we're being honest, I'd say we were having a pretty good day up until now.”

Red eyes tried desperately to find the hidden meaning behind those words without a flicker of change to his dark expression. It seemed the guy had an answer for nearly everything that crossed his path – another thing that got under his skin, if he were being honest – but he found no dishonesty in them this time.

Qrow sighed softly, turning his gaze away. Hell, if the guy was being honest, then perhaps it was time to trade in for some of that himself.

“...yeah, you're right...” he conceded quietly. “On both counts.”

He reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose, not wanting this at all. Weariness settled into him and he lowered his hand to his side.

“Look, it was fun and all, but right now, all I really want to do is sleep this off. It's- Don't take it personally, but this is _not_ a conversation I want to be having here,” he added, starkly aware they were both standing in the depths of the Academy.

Clover gave a brief nod, feeling it was best to let the man have his space for now. Trust wasn't built in a day, but it could sure be dented in one, after all.

“None taken. It's not the best for privacy out here,” he offered with a smile. “Though if you ever want to pick up where we left off, I'm here to listen. No judgement. No coercion.”

The huntsman watched that easy smile fill the man's expression as if he had not a care in the world. His words were... almost a tempting offer. If he hadn't already felt the instinctual sting of them so viciously. He was easy to talk to; an even better listener, too. And they  _did_ fight well together.

It was little wonder why Ironwood had paired them up for the mission. They balanced each other out so well...

“I'd...”

The words tangled in his head again, knotting on his tongue. Would he really like that?

Clover could already see it was going to take a little for the man to unwind himself from the ball he'd become – something unintentionally his fault – and he reached up to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell you what; head back to your room. I'll have one of the guys from the mess deliver something to you,” he told him. “Once you've had some decent sleep, I'll see you tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred. I want to see what fighting the famous Qrow Branwen is really like.”

Without waiting for an answer, he gave him a brief wink, turned, and walked away from the huntsman. Yet again, Qrow found himself on the receiving end of Clover's rather throwaway style, and really, he should've been used to the guy by now.

He wanted to stay irate, he really did. But something about his manner caused the feelings to slip free like water off a duck's back.

Still... that last comment concerned him. Fighting him one-on-one? The last time he managed to go head to head with someone else their auras shattered entirely from pure strain, they both nearly killed one another, and he earned himself a nasty scar in the process thanks to that vicious stinger and abysmally slow reflexes.

He gave a heavy sigh, running fingers through his hair. Still, for everything else, Clover was a man of his word, and it he said he was going to send something to his room, then he was going to be there to receive it. It was only fair, after all. The guy was only trying, but he was  _so good_ at trying.

The faint smile brushed his lips as he shook his head. What a day indeed...

***

Dinner, as it turned out,  _did_ arrive at his room before he did, and given the size of the spread, he really had to wonder if he was going to eat for the next week. It was as if Clover didn't know what to choose, and simply told the cooks to give him one of everything.

Not that he would have minded on the road, but given he was staying in a place where three square meals a day were provided, it seemed a little over the top.

He reached over a tub of mashed potato to retrieve the little card with his name on it. Flipping it over, he gave a quiet huff of amusement. Written in simple print, Clover had penned him a simple message.

“It might be a lot now, but that's what the containers are for. Don't forget, midnight snacks are important for your health.”

The smile touched his eyes as he placed the card down. Not that he really felt like eating an entire horse tonight, but he knew he could do some serious damage to some baked potato and ham. And Clover was right; he had to get his strength back if he wanted to go toe-to-toe with the guy in the ring.

Unclasping his jacket, he let it fall to the floor, rolling his shoulders with the action. He reached for the spare containers and started laying them out, at least tucking away the excess before it all went to waste. It was probably the drugs still in his system, but he had the sudden realisation that this was the most homely thing he'd done for a while, and he shook his head lightly.

“Now _there's_ a scary thought...”

Satisfied with his efforts, he stacked the containers up in his hands, heading to the small kitchenette. His foot caught on the edge of the carpet and he stumbled, managing to catch himself before he hit the deck. The top container jostled loose with the sudden jerk, and fell towards the ground.

In pure reaction, he whipped his foot out, deftly catching it before it could smack open and create a mess.

Red eyes blinked at it in total surprise as he hovered there on one foot, balancing the container on his other. More than total surprise, he was utterly stunned. Not wanting to upset the lone tub, he gently placed the others on the counter, lowering his foot and letting it carefully slide to the floor.

Still not believing his luck, he just stared at it. Realisation pinged through him and he tucked his hand into his pocket, withdrawing the little charm that sat there. It shone back at him in his fingers.

He knew he shouldn't put too much stock into it. It was just a badge, after all. It wasn't like it was imbued with Clover's semblance, or there was anything residual inside it.

It wasn't as if his  _own_ luck was changing, either.

It just happened to be a skillful catch. He was a skilled huntsman after all.

No luck involved.

His brow pinched lightly as he stared back at the container. Yeah, nothing but skill...

***

The first dim rays of light began tinting the skies, slipping it from a rich navy dotted with stars to a muted grey. If there were birds living up in the Academy, even they wouldn't be awake at this hour. Yet the city itself was starting to wind up. To begin anew.

Faint lights from vehicles on the ground and in the air began to trickle through the buildings and into the pre-dawn sky.

A lone pair of red eyes watched them all silently from the comfort of his bed.

He had woken before the dawn; a habit that was starting to sink back into repetition now that sobriety had become the norm for him. It was still in his room. Quiet. Even the sounds from the rest of the Academy had yet to begin, which suited him just fine.

Silence in these kind of hours were some of his favourite times, even if he once cursed them.

Because silence once led to stray thoughts and overthinking and memories and that deep ache that always buried itself in his chest. Something he could  _only_ deal with when he nursed a glass in his hand.

Red eyes narrowed faintly. He'd been a fool. He knew that now; clarity was a cruel mistress.

The pre-dawn silence still led him down the path of deep thinking, but this time there was less noise and static crowding the words. It felt almost foreign, but it felt... welcome. Like he'd been drifting through life in a fog, and now something had cleared the air about him. He'd always had a purpose in life, but now he truly felt like he had a plan.

Fingers slipped quietly under his pillow, holding lightly. He had... a chance to recover.

To let go of everything that had wrapped its thorny hands about him.

To have...

He closed his eyes, curling up a little further.

He wanted a shower, the sudden thought hit him. He was awake and needing movement now that his mind had drifted on. Taking a deep, languid breath, he stretched out and rolled away from the window, feeling joints and muscles protest.

Red eyes fell to the small trinket that he'd left on the counter the night before and his brow pinched.

Pushing the covers back, he rolled to his feet, pacing to where it sat and glancing down at it, expression mute as red eyes skirted its simple features. Its metallic surface caught the faint light from across the room, and he noticed faint scuffs and pockmarks of age upon it. Battle worn, just like he felt. After a long moment, he gave a low sigh, pushing away from it and heading to the bathroom.

He needed that shower.


	3. Nieces And New Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief chapter this time, but it's either that or a 7500+ word dump, and hoo boy. That's a lot of ground to cover.
> 
> Don't worry, I promise a much longer chapter next time <3

“Uncle Qrow!”

The excited call of his name had him glancing up from his bowl in the mess, and he waved back at his niece as she darted up to him. Her sister trailed in after her and plopped down on the seat opposite him, not really all that awake.

“How are you? Did you sleep well? Are you sore anywhere at all?”

The rapidfire questions had him holding a hand up at her with a soft smile. “Easy kiddo, I'm fine,” he replied softly. “And the only sore thing around here is my pride.”

Yang leant across the table, snatching up his coffee and taking a deep swig from it. “Ruby tells me you hit a tree.”

The judgement in her voice was a thick as his porridge and he poked at it with his spoon.

“And _you_ never broke your arm punching something?” he replied, all morning snark and no filter.

“Not while trying to show off, that's for sure.”

He pointed his spoon at her, a small fleck of porridge hitting the table. “First of all, I wasn't showing off – it was strategic use of my ability. Secondly, I  _won_ . Third, it's still way too early to be dealing with this kind of vicious attack when I'm both under caffeinated-” he snatched back his coffee, slamming back the rest of it and clinking the empty mug to the table “-and out of coffee.”

He slid the mug pointedly towards the blonde and she shook her head at him, smile warm on her expression. “Alright, alright.” She stood up, collecting the mug and gestured lightly at him. “Gotta stay awake for your big day today, huh?”

Red eyes blinked at her as she left, falling on the younger sister. “Wait, what's today?”

“Your training match with Clover?”

His brows pinched sharply in confusion. “What? How'd you-” He stopped himself, running through everything that happened at that point in their conversation last night. He hit pause in his head and groaned heavily, hand coming to cover his face.

When they were standing in the middle of the Academy halls. With students moving about them. During a busy time of the day.

He almost wanted to curse under his breath if Ruby weren't sitting half a foot away from him. He didn't want to think  _how far_ this news had spread if it had already gone as far as his nieces. Ironwood probably already knew. Winter most definitely. Any of the students who knew the name and legend of the huntsman Qrow Branwen.

He placed his other hand to his face, groaning again. So much for the simple, throwaway spot of fun they were going to have during a day off. From the sounds of it, half of the Academy were going to be there to cheer them on.

A mug clunked onto the table before him, and Yang sat down with her own. “Aw, don't feel so bad Uncle Qrow.”

He glared at her from between his fingers.

“The guy's a great fighter, sure – but we already know what he's capable of, right?” she reasoned. “You've worked with him already, and we've all seen how he moves. Where his openings are, blind spots, his range.”

“Kid, this isn't like reviewing a match from the Vytal Festival,” he told he, dropping his hands to fold on the table. “He's a trained huntsman, a full-on operative who's had years in the field, just like me. You can't rely on what you've already seen to know what else he's got in his bag of tricks.”

“Then use what you _know_ , not what you've _seen_ ,” she pressed, gesturing towards him with her mug.

“Are you lecturing me?” he realised, leaning forward slightly.

Yang laughed at him, taking a swig from her coffee. “Just trying to get you to think a little more like we do.” Ruby nodded, sliding his forgotten porridge over to her and reaching for the sugar.

“Exactly! You know what you can do, and how to use that to your advantage,” she began, dumping a bunch of sugar atop the slop and stirring it in. “I remember your fight against Tyrian, and that was fighting a _completely_ unknown enemy! And you still won!”

“I nearly died. Twice.”

She waved him off. “My point is, don't worry about it! You're strong enough to handle whatever he throws at you, and probably  _way_ more skilled than he could ever dream of being.” Ruby shoved a spoonful of porridge into her mouth, swallowing it down. “Beside, this is also just a sparring match; it's not going to be life or death out there.”

“Oh, so just damaging my pride and reputation if I lose, got it,” he grumbled, nursing his coffee.

He glanced over the rim of his mug to the rest of the students milling about the mess. There were not so subtle eyes coming his way, or pointed whispers and pointed fingers. So yeah, a good chunk of the Academy knew.

He took a heavy swig from his coffee. Just his luck.

***

The heavy door clunked shut behind him as he stood in the empty training arena. He knew he was more than a little early, but he wanted to get a lay of the land; something he was now seeing as... kind of pointless. When it was in its dormant state, it was completely flat, giving it an utterly cavernous appearance.

Red eyes glanced around the expansive room, glad that Ironwood had the foresight to make it big enough to accommodate most goings-on in here. Kids could be pretty destructive with their skills and semblances, but two fully trained huntsmen going toe-to-toe in here? He  _really_ hoped the place was sturdy.

He gave a soft murmur of thought, running what he knew of Clover's fighting style and abilities through his head. He knew what his weapon was capable of. He knew how fast he was on both the ground and in the air. What he  _didn't_ know was how much his semblance was going to clash against his own and influence both their capabilities.

He placed his good hand on his hip. That was another thing, too. He was essentially fighting with one hand tied behind his back. He couldn't rely on being ambidextrous for this one, nor could he pull off any big two-handed swings or catches with Harbinger. Parrying was potentially going to be an issue, too.

He frowned lightly. Nor could he rely on his transformation with – at this point, most likely – the entire Academy watching.

So, relying on modified skill with a little luck tucked away in his pocket.

The quiet sigh passed his lips as he closed his eyes. He really  _didn't_ want to go through with this, but it wasn't like he could tell the guy no. Especially not when there was going to be one hell of an audience. Though that did make him wonder...

He walked a little ways out into the arena, turning his head to look up at the viewing room. It was only a small little box, so obviously if most people were going to watch the fight, it would be streamed somehow. That would also mean someone was going to be up there making sure everything was alright.

At his side, his scroll chimed and he raised an eyebrow at the incoming call, accepting it.

“Well this is a surprise.”

“Since it's your first time in the Atlas Academy training arena, I wanted to run you through a few things,” Winter's voice told him crisply.

“Alright, I'm all ears,” he replied, strolling lazily towards the centre of the room.

“You can both control the arena layout through your scrolls. I'm sending through the program now. Clover can demonstrate its use to you once he arrives. You also have thirty minutes to yourselves before it's needed for Academy purposes.”

Qrow gave a short sigh. “Right, beat him up and clear out, got it.”

Winter chose to ignore the comment. “The arena is designed with Atlas Military training in mind, so you're allowed to use as much force as you see fit with both your physical strength and you semblances. Do keep in mind this does  _not_ extend to overly destructive semblances.”

“Relax, I don't plan on bringing the house down on anyone's head, accident or not,” Qrow assured her. “I'm surprised you're not giving me a lecture on the improper usage of Academy property instead.”

“It was cleared through the proper channels three days ago.”

Brows went upwards and he stopped walking. “He only asked me last night.”

“Then it's a good thing you accepted, otherwise it would've been a waste of Academy time to restructure the entire morning around the two of you.”

The comment was sharp and acidic, just like he expected, and he reached up to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Sure, whatever. Thanks for the-” the line clicked dead “-heads up...”

He sighed and tapped open the new program on his scroll, giving it a few cursory taps. At the far end of the arena, the dark blocks rose out of the floor, stacked atop one another like boxes. He tapped a few more times, bringing another stack up to a different level. It was a simple system, and he could appreciate that. Flicking it over to some of the presets, he chose one of the more commonly used ones, and the entire arena began to shift.

He tucked his scroll away and made the leap up to the top of a tall tower, surveying the rest of it. Plenty of hiding space, line of sight between pillars... it looked like the layout Ruby and the rest of them used when they were training against the others.

Which suited him just fine.

“I like what you've done with the place!”

Clover's voice called up to him and he glanced down, giving an easy wave. The brunet put his hands on his hips, cocking his head to the side as Qrow dropped down next to him.

“Didn't take you long to get used to it.”

“Had to pass the time somehow. I wasn't expecting my sparring partner to be late.”

“Sorry about that. I was just setting up a few last minute details,” Clover replied. He turned to give a wave up to the viewing room, and Qrow blinked in surprise. The entirety of the kids and Elm were up there watching them. Ruby waved furiously at them, reaching over to snatch at the arena microphone.

“Uncle Qrow, can you hear me?” her voice echoed sharply through the arena and he resisted the urge to cover his ears. “Good luck down there! We're all cheering for you!!”

Elm tugged the mic towards her. “Kick his ass, Clover! Show him what we're all about!”

Qrow gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head as Clover waved them off. “Well then,” the brunet glanced back at him, smiling easily. “Shall we get started?”

“Before that,” the huntsman asked quickly. “What's the deal down here? Are they going to be able to hear everything, or just see what's going on?”

“There's local sound, so they can hear as far as their own ears let them. Otherwise, it's all visual; they can watch us from a few different angles, but that's it.”

“And the broadcasting?” Qrow asked flatly.

Clover gave a shake of his head. “Visual feed only. Depending on the broadcaster in the box, they might put their own music to it, but that's down to personal preference.” At Qrow's silence, he held up a hand. “Hey, we don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'm happy with whatever choice you make.”

Red eyes closed with a sigh, hand already reaching for Harbinger and unsheathing it. “No. Let's just get it over with,” he replied almost wearily. Without waiting for a response, he sprang easily from his place, returning to the top of the tower. Clover smirked to himself and followed after him, landing on a further pillar as he readied Kingfisher.

“By the way!”

Qrow's voice was stern as he levelled Harbinger at him, gesturing lightly with his injured arm.

“Don't you _dare_ take it easy on me because you think I'm at a disadvantage!”

Clover grinned back at him.

“I wouldn't insult you like that!”

Languidly, Qrow slipped into a fighting stance. “That's what I was hoping you'd say...” And in a flash of movement, darted towards his opponent.

***

Unbeknownst to both of the combatants, the entirety of the Academy seemed to hold its breath in that moment. Time ground to a halt as nearly everyone beneath the gilded spire of Atlas Academy turned their attention to the fight. Most professors brought classes to a halt as everyone clamoured to see the two fighters charge at one another.

Students outside of classes gathered around scrolls and commandeered screens to see the excitement. Even the soldiers supposed to be on watch snuck their scrolls out.

Even Ironwood, Winter ever at his side, brought up the larger screen to watch them from his office, fingers tense as they clasped before him, but otherwise betraying no emotion.

From the viewing room, elation spiked as Qrow shot forward, knowing full well that regardless of who won, it would be a match like none other.


	4. Fighting And Fair Games

Clover sprang back from the man, Qrow impacting heavily where he stood and immediately setting after him again. Clover set the pace with Qrow easily matching it as they all but shot between the pillars. As soon as Clover landed against the side of one and shot away once more, Qrow would rake through the air where he once stood, rocketing after him with a snarl.

“Stay still, dammit!” he growled, taking a few useless potshots at the man with Harbinger. Clover flung Kingfisher's line out to snag a pillar, whipping around it and skidding to a halt on the ground.

He'd barely glanced up, losing sight of Qrow in that moment, but still hearing the ripple of fabric in the air. He ducked around a corner and pressed himself up against a pillar, hiding himself for a moment.

“You told me not to hold back!”

“I _meant!_ ”

Clover drew a breath as he dropped to his knees at the closeness of that voice, leaning back almost impossibly as the curved blade of Harbinger gashed through where his head once was.

“Stop trying to _run AWAY!_ ”

The cleaved blocks crashed to the ground like a ton of rubble, dust rocketing from the impact sight and obstructing vision for a handful of time. Clover darted backwards out of it, striking out with the barbed hook of Kingfisher, something easily smacked out of the way by Qrow, who pushed forward aggressively.

With a sudden fling, Harbinger came spiralling from his hands, streaking towards the brunet like a buzzsaw and Clover couldn't retract his line in time. It tangled in the thrown weapon, a mass of line and a blur of motion, jerking it from his hands and boomeranging in a skywards curve. In the moment of distraction, Qrow was in his personal space, sliding into his ankles with a sweeping kick and lashing out at his falling body with an elbow.

Clover caught it hard to the side, bouncing harshly off the ground a rolling to a stop at the base of a pillar.

Ironwood's gloves creaked with tension. Students fell silent or gasped in surprise.

Giving himself a couple of vital seconds to stand up, Clover held his side gingerly, finding Qrow's location once more. Alright. So he definitely wasn't holding back. The huntsman was coming at him full force, just like he wanted. He couldn't tell at this point if it was semblance or skill that had saved his very life so far.

Green eyes levelled at red as the huntsman stalked towards him, barely breathing hard for the simple effort of demolishing Clover. Fingers almost twitched to reach up for his badge, lamenting the fact he gave it away so easily.

He brought himself upright once more. Lucky for him, there was more than one way to skin a cat, or in this case, clip a bird's wings, and he gave the rabbit's foot at his belt a casual flick. Red eyes caught the move, widening as it was Clover's turn to dart towards him. Qrow brought his good arm up before him, catching the full force of the man as he barged into him, a knee driving deep into his stomach and sending them both smashing back into a pillar.

Qrow couldn't cry out sharply as all breath was crushed from him, harshly realising the man's raw strength. The brunet took a few steps back, settling into a fighting stance as Qrow stayed slumped against the pillar. Gods it suddenly hurt to breathe, and he was downright thankful Clover had given him a second to get his breath back.

Then the moment was shattered as Clover was on the offensive once more. He blocked the sudden flurry of punches and kicks that came his way, and the two of them traded physical blows. Their footwork had them almost dancing about the floor, but even still, Qrow couldn't manage to get his back away from the pillar. Clover had him entirely boxed in and he wanted to keep him there.

The huntsman traded a blow for a raking open palm strike, whipping past Clover's head. At the dodge, he changed his angle, snatching up a handful of jacket, planting a foot to the brunet's stomach and heaving hard. With the brief amount of space between them, he barely managed to slip sideways enough to get his back off the wall and retreat a few paces.

With the sudden space between them and a hand pressed to his stomach, Qrow growled, letting his emotions get the better of him. This wasn't luck, his mind kept shooting. It was skill, and Clover was just showing him how deep that skill ran.

The thought lasted until there was a sharp cracking sound, and the pillar he had been pressed up against shattered to the ground. Clover reached a hand up as he stood within the falling debris, completely unharmed as it fell about him, easily catching Kingfisher from where it had become embedded with Harbinger higher up, the latter clattering to the ground between them.

Red eyes widened. There was  _ no way _ he'd known their weapons were up there!

With a snarl, he darted towards him in a zig-zag fashion, avoiding the almost casual flicks of a barbed hook aimed in his direction. One managed to scrape past his leg, nicking the fabric, but Clover wasn't fast enough to jerk the line back and catch him fully. With a diving roll, Qrow snatched up his weapon, sweeping out at the man, who easily jumped out of the way.

Retracting Harbinger to its sword formation, he continued to strike out, clashing with Kingfisher head on in a scraping of metal on metal. It was tough; as tough as Winter's sabre, and he expected no less from Atlesian Military design.

“Gotta admit,” Clover ground out as they both pushed against each other for the upper hand. “You're pretty good!”

Qrow laughed darkly at him. “Good enough to beat the Ice Queen!”

He shoved hard against Clover's surprise, pushing them apart with a slash and immediately pursuing him once more between the pillars. At one point in the chase, Kingfisher's hook whizzed past his face, and he ducked out of the way, letting it disappear behind him. He realised his mistake a heartbeat later when there came a booming crash of collapsing blocks, the pillars falling like dominoes alongside him.

His gaze followed the motion long enough to stumble to a halt, darting away from them as they shattered to the ground around him. He threw his arms up to shield his face as the dust and debris smashed about him.

In the haze, Clover shot towards him, brandishing the same move as Qrow had opened with, and the huntsman leapt backwards in a one-handed cartwheel. He knew his mistake as soon as fingers brushed the ground, and he crumpled in a rolling heap as he attempted to whip his broken arm back from any weight applied to it.

He was utterly open, and he ducked behind broken rubble, just enough to cover him as he held his broken arm tightly, Harbinger strewn at his side. He drew a deeper, slower breath, bringing himself back under control as he listened for Clover's whereabouts. Alright. So Clover wasn't holding back either. Good.

Red eyes narrowed, focused on the floor beneath him as his mind raced. So far they were pretty evenly matched. Semblances seemed to be balancing out, too. The big advantage Clover was showing was the amount of range he had over Qrow; Kingfisher was the main problem. He bit back the hiss on his tongue, finding the disgusting parallels between this fight and his last one-on-one match.

Well, at least this time wouldn't leave him fighting for his life afterwards.

He snatched up Harbinger and took off away from the destruction, seeking higher, clearer ground. As he leapt upwards, ricocheting from pillar to pillar, a hand tucked into the lapels of his vest and he turned to survey behind him as he streaked through the air.

As predicted, Clover had spotted him and taken up the chase, and he smirked to himself. He knew he had one of two options, so why not try his luck and go for both?

Booted feet planted on the side of a pillar, Harbinger came up in solid defence, and Kingfisher plowed into it as the two men clashed against gravity.

“Gotcha.”

The breath of a word between them, and green eyes barely had time to widen. Harbinger's long blade curved viciously, Kingfisher snapping into its separated parts before he retracted it sharply. In a heartbeat, it shattered the reel at its hilt.

Clover was shunted away from the impact and he dropped to the ground in a hard recovery roll. Eyes darted to his weapon as he stopped; the mechanism was ripped from its throat and was little more than a broken handle now. How on earth-?

He had little time to wonder yet the answer immediately stuck him.

Qrow's hand had ducked into his vest as he chased him.

His badge.

He latched the retracted Kingfisher to his belt once more, arms bracing in front of him as Qrow came in like a rocket. With a sharp leap back, Qrow impaled the ground beneath them, sending a shockwave out and denting the floor of the arena with a booming thud. The dust blew out from around him, clearing the air whilst leaving his opponent shrouded.

Winter's eyes widened as she drew a breath. Ironwood sat up straight and pressed his hands to the desk. The students held their breath, not immediately seeing what the others saw in the moment.

Clover was down on one knee, breathing hard as green energy crackled about his form.

Qrow withdrew Harbinger from the floor, drawing a deep breath and heaving it out in a ragged sigh, his own breath just as laboured. The sword collapsed in his hands and he tucked it safely away, taking a few paces forward.

“Uncle Qrow you did it!!” Ruby's voice screamed over the loudspeaker.

His steps faltered and he dropped to his knees, his good hand catching him before he fell entirely, red energy crackling over him.

Both their auras shattered, all they could do was stay where they had landed. Clover pushed himself back and he flopped to the ground, breathing hard. Qrow couldn't even manage that, and he just sank back on his knees, arms limp at his sides.

“Remind me...” Clover panted. “To never lend you... that badge... ever again.”

Qrow gave a breathless laugh, staring skyward.

“I mean... I did warn you...”

Around them, the arena began to shift, retracting itself back into the floor and repairing what damage had been done during the swift yet vicious sparring match.

The quiet sound of Clover laughing at him caught his ears, and he couldn't help but do the same. It was the kind of high both of them always felt after a particularly vicious fight; adrenaline kicking in and leaving them breathless, giddy. In these kind of circumstances, something completely safe without the threat of life and limb on the line, it felt euphoric to simply let go and attack full force.

Qrow closed his eyes as he sat there, still battle heightened senses picking up the sounds of the others approaching him. He barely managed a grunt as Ruby and Yang careened into him, hugging him tightly and squeezing the breath from him. He reached up to blearily give a pat to a yellow crown, thankful they didn't barrel into his broken arm at least.

“That was amazing!” Weiss exclaimed. “I've never seen anyone wield a scythe like that save for Ruby!”

“And at that speed, too. That was one heck of a show,” Blake added with a laugh.

“ _Now_ do you guys believe me! I told you he's the best ever!”

Qrow gave a quiet laugh, trying to extract himself from the duo. They helped him stand, letting him find his feet but not willing to let him go just yet.

“You kids are pretty special yourself; don't ever forget that,” he told them, fingers giving an affectionate squeeze to his niece's shoulders. “You've already shown us that there's nothing to worry about going forward. _And_ you've had a hell of an advanced course of training, to boot.”

Red eyes glanced up as Clover was helped to his feet by Elm, dusting him down briefly. The man met his eyes and couldn't help but smile softly. Qrow returned it easily as they made their way over to him.

“And here I thought luck was on _my_ side,” came the teasing remark.

“Yeah well, now you know otherwise.”

“Oh I knew, I just wanted to see why General Ironwood told me no.”

Qrow stilled at that, knowing  _ exactly _ what it meant. There was always a healthy level of respect between the two of them as professionals, and they both knew each others strengths and limits. So much so that even Ironwood refused to step into the ring against Qrow. The man was a brilliant strategist and by no means a fool; even under threat of death, he would not face Qrow.

“You should've listened to him,” he murmured softly.

Clover was undaunted, shaking his head lightly. “And miss my chance to fight Qrow Branwen? We both might've graduated long ago, but you thoroughly schooled me today. For that experience alone, I thank you.”

A hand was held out to him, and Qrow was a little taken aback for a moment. He was still completely unused to people looking up to him, encouraging him, or even complimenting him, and this guy was the whole package rolled into one. It sat strangely in his stomach and he fought down the automatic urge to deflect. To pass over it as if it were nothing.

It was... something Clover was helping him realise.

He reached his hand out, grasping the offered one firmly. Ruby hugged him tighter and Yang smiled over at Clover. This guy really was something else, and she was glad her uncle had found a good friend in him.

He deserved it, after everything they'd been through, and all the unhappiness in his life. Even if the future was still a terrifying unknown, they all deserved some small piece of solace. Heavens knows she'd found her own after so long.

Their hands parted and the conversation turned to Ruby and Elm excitedly talking about the fight. Weiss and Blake joined in, thoroughly impressed by both their forms and speed. Clover and Qrow responded where they could, finding it a little hard to get a word in over their excited teammates.

Yang glanced up at her uncle with a fond smile, noticing how relaxed he seemed to be. He was smiling a lot more in these last few days, laughing even. This stay in Atlas had done everyone a world of good, but especially him.

Especially since...

She turned violet eyes back to Clover, watching him intently. He addressed those he spoke to politely, if breathlessly, meeting their gaze and joking along with them. But when he had finished, he always ducked green eyes back to the same spot.

Always back to...

Willing herself not to tense up, she snuck a glance back up to her uncle, seeing him staring straight back at the man, a soft laugh falling from his lips. It was never just a once off thing, either. When conversation waned, or when they spoke directly to one another, it always came back to the two of them.

“...no way...”

She almost wanted to punch herself when the words fell from her lips, calling immediate attention to herself with how she froze up. Qrow stared down at her, fingers squeezing lightly at her shoulder.

“You alright, Firecracker?”

The panic sat in her throat and her mind skittered like a record throw off its track. “I just... remembered! Ruby told me you broke your arm yesterday!” she all but yelled. “You fought this entire time with a cast on!”

“You _what?_ ” Weiss exclaimed, actually noticing it for the first time. “Wait, then the fall when you somersaulted backwards...”

“It was lucky you realised in time,” Blake finished for her.

“Hey, luck had nothing to do with it,” Qrow groused. “You get a guy running full tilt at you with a weapon, and you back off in a hurry – whatever way possible.”

“Well hey, I won't be doing that again anytime soon,” Clover told him with a laugh, patting the remnants of Kingfisher.

“Ah... look, about that, too...” The sudden turn of the conversation brought Qrow up short. “I didn't mean to actually break your weapon. It was just...” he trailed off, Clover smirking at him.

“Luck?” he ventured.

“An unfortunate accident.”

The brunet waved him off. “It's nothing. I'll bet Pietro has been itching to upgrade it for a while now,” he pointed a finger at the weapon strapped to Qrow's back. “I'm even willing to bet he's  _ already _ got an upgrade for yours, too.”

The huntsman tensed slightly. “Once is enough for me, thanks.”

“Hey, well, congrats on winning the fight!” Yang told him, giving him a soft elbowing. “Bet you can't wait to sleep for a week, huh?” Gods above she wanted to be out of this arena and back with her team. She _desperately_ needed to speak to them alone. Qrow gave a groan and rubbed the back of his neck.

“More like fall into a long, hot soak in a tub first.” He slipped gently from both the leeches at his sides, reaching into the lapels of his jacket. “Here. Think you dropped this somewhere along the way.”

Clover feigned surprised, reaching up to pat the spot where it once sat, gently taking it from the offered hand, fingers brushing a warm palm.

“Don't want your luck to run out on you.”

The brunet gave a rich laugh.

“Alright, well, I think that's enough fun for one morning,” Clover announced as he tucked his pin back into place. “That, and our allotted time is nearly up. Qrow, thanks once again. Enjoy your victory. For now,” he winked at him, turning to walk out of the arena with a brief salute, Elm trailing behind him.

Yang wanted to scream.

Qrow gave a heavy sigh beside her, reaching up to run fingers through dark hair. “I think that's enough excitement for my day,” he told them all. “Think I'm going to go find a quiet corner and recharge a little.”

“Aw, no celebration, Uncle Qrow?” Ruby pouted.

A hand patted her head gently. “Save me an extra bowl of ice cream after I wake up from my coma, deal?” She latched onto him in a fierce but brief hug.

“You got it!”

It was an electric energy that passed through the team as they walked from the arena, still vividly chatting about the fight and Ruby beaming with pride at her uncle. Yang certainly didn't shy away from joining in, but she was practically vibrating with the need to blurt out what she'd witnessed.

To everyone's surprise, there was a decent crowd waiting for them outside the arena, and the gathering cheered and clapped at Qrow as he appeared. The attention surprised him, and he almost bashfully smiled at the students and professors alike. The attention wasn't really unwarranted, either; he'd firmly bested the leader of the Ace Operatives. It was going to be a topic of conversation for months to come.

He gave them all a brief wave as they parted through the crowd, wondering briefly if he could find a quiet spot to transform and fly out of all this. A fleeting thought, really, but gods above if it wasn't an inviting one.

They pushed through, some of the professors and older students helping them pass by keeping the rest of the crowd at bay, and soon enough, they'd escaped. Qrow almost breathed a sigh of relief. Large groups of people were never really his thing to begin with, but particularly now, when all he wanted to do was go  _ unnoticed _ .

Everyone stopped before the vast elevator doors, and Qrow took the opportunity to step back. “You girls go on ahead. I'm gonna turn in for a bit and find something to cure this light head trauma of mine.”

“Alright, take it easy Uncle Qrow,” Ruby replied.

“Don't let your adoring fans smother you too much,” Blake added with a laugh as the elevator dinged open behind them all.

“And whatever you do, don't forget to eat something to help rebuild your aura,” Weiss told him firmly.

Qrow spread his arms with a soft laugh. “Hey, who are you all talking to here?”

“The guy who just kicked Clover's ass in five minutes tops,” Yang smirked at him as they all stepped inside, pressing a button for the bottom floor.

The huntsman stood up a little straighter at that. “And don't you forget it, kiddo.”

The elevator doors slid shut, silence blanketing the four of them. Yang gave a mental count of six before she glanced at the others. “Hey uh, guys?” All eyes turned to her and she hesitated a little. Was it really the right thing to discuss with them all? Was she even right with what she saw?

“Um...” the words were lost on her again and she fidgeted a little; prosthetic fingers curling a faint melody on a piano. Blake caught the subtle movement and frowned lightly.

“Yang?”

“Did Qrow... seem a little...” she gestured lightly at the air before her. “...off?”

Weiss and Ruby blinked back at her, glancing briefly at one another. “What... do you mean?”

Oh boy, okay. Yang mentally put all her ducks in a row,  _ really _ hoping she was on the mark with this one.

“I mean... I've just noticed... when he's around Clover... he, uh...” she trailed off, struggling to find the proper words. Blake frowned lightly at that, bringing a hand to her lips at the hesitant statement. When Qrow was around Clover? It had only been a handful of times now, but even so...

Scenes began to replay in her head, and she analysed each one. The mines. The airship ride there. The various meetings they'd all had together. Even just now, in the arena. She recalled seeing them together during some of their scheduled time off, too.

Amber eyes widened slightly, finding the sharp commonality amongst it all. She turned her eyes back to Yang, surprise light on her features.

“Am... am I wrong?” came the hesitant question.

Blake drew a slow breath, realisation settling in.

“...no way...”

“No... way?” Ruby asked, a little lost. At her side, Weiss brought her hands to her mouth in shock.

“No... oh you're right!” she exclaimed, eyes locking onto Yang's. “How... did we all not see that?”

“Guys! Tell me already! Is Uncle Qrow alright?” Ruby all but whined. For all her brilliant strategies and battle prowess, Yang seemed to forget that she really _was_ a kid at times, and some things flew a little above her head to grasp.

“Um, well,” Weiss began, clearly not knowing where to begin. “Well, um... your uncle is... he seems... kind of...”

“He and Clover... _like_ each other...”

The soft statement from Blake settled heavily on the girls, someone having finally said it. Realisation struck each of them as interactions between the two began to shift into a whole new light. Ruby gave a soft snorting laugh at the words.

“Well, duh they like each other!” she said, clearly missing the entire penny drop. “They've become such great friends since we all got here! Even their semblances are super similar!”

“Ruby, oh my gosh...” Weiss placed her fingers to her temple in exasperation.

Yang shook her head affectionately at her sister. “Ruby... I think they like each other...  _ more _ than just friends.”

Clearly it took a few more seconds to process, because silver eyes blinked back at her sister. The faint tilt of a head started the rest of the process, and she suddenly drew a sharp breath, hands flying to her mouth.

“Oh my _gosh!_ They-! Are they-? Do you think they know!?”

Her rapid high-pitched response drew the sharp laugh from Yang, and the frustrated ire from Weiss who couldn't resist the urge to thump her arm.

“What do you mean 'do you think they know,' you dolt!” She chided sharply, colour rising to her cheeks at their chosen topic. “Of course you'd know if you had a thing for someone!”

“Ah...”

Blake hesitated for a moment, feeling heat gather at her collar.

“Well... sometimes... you don't really know... until it just kind of happens,” she explained softly. “And then suddenly it seems so obvious... like you've been staring at the sun the entire time,” she glanced over at Yang. “...wondering why you've been so blind.”

Yang felt the colour rise to her cheeks at the simple words, knowing they were pointedly directed at  _ more _ than just their conversation topic. She brought a hand to her mouth, clearing her throat lightly.

“That seems like a really bad idea for your eyes,” Ruby interjected.

Blake was caught off-guard and she couldn't help the soft laugh that slipped from her. Even if Ruby clearly had no idea about subtlety and tact when it came to attraction, at least she was always there to make them feel happier. Unintentionally or otherwise.

“Um, we'll explain it later,” Yang told her with an affectionate smile as the elevator dinged softly.  



	5. Weariness And Wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So hey, remember that wee tag about this fic being hurt/comfort? Strap in for round one kids.

Clover sat back against the lockers with a heavy sigh, allowing himself a small measure of weariness. He immediately regretted the action as he felt the sharp sting of his ribs. He sat up a little, one hand reaching to cover it lightly.

For all the stories he'd heard of Qrow Branwen, nothing really compared to fighting him one-on-one himself. And, truth be told, he probably should have listened when he was told it was a bad idea to even consider it. The guy hit like a truck shot out of a cannon, and he was wildly unpredictable, especially when it came to his fighting style.

It was almost hard to keep stock of what was going to come at him first – sword, scythe, bullets or fists. All of it coupled with a ridiculous level of speed. He mightn't have had Ruby's semblance, but Clover knew it was something borne from an entirely different level of skill to his own.

It came from a need to survive, and the sheer willingness to push himself to the edge of that need. It came from a lifetime of desperate struggle; Qrow had lived his life  _ very  _ differently to his comparatively comfortable upbringing.

Clover's brows furrowed; he'd never experienced anything like Qrow's need to live in his life.

The door slid open at the end of the room, and he glanced over to see Winter standing there, assessing him sharply. He stood up, ignoring the fire in his ribs and offering her a crisp salute. She walked towards him, hands tucked neatly at the small of her back. There was a moment of pause as the stopped before him, though he swore he saw her gaze soften somewhat.

“Now you understand why the General warned you,” she told him quietly. “Why _I_ warned you.”

The man cleared his throat softly. “With all due respect, ma'am, I pushed for the approval to train against him.”

“And I still don't know why he gave it to you.”

Soft and almost hissed, spoken like a curse under breath. She began to pace lightly before him, arms folded neatly behind her back.

“Qrow Branwen has dedicated his entire life to fighting for Remnant and her enemies. His mission to defeat Salem has been a lifelong challenge of honing his skills to utter perfection, despite the utter _disaster_ of a semblance the man carries with him. He has slaughtered countless thousands upon _thousands_ of Grimm of every species and size; ones that would best even the surest of our forces. I would not wish him as an enemy upon anyone.” Her pacing ceased, icy stare locking firmly to his.

“And you fought him upon a _whim._ ”

_ That _ brought him up short, and he had to tamp down on the squirming that wanted to escape his stomach. Winter herself was nothing if not a formidable fighter herself, and he almost wished he could be anywhere else in that moment.

Still... her point was valid, and her words stung true.

“I felt it was necessary to ascertain my level of skill against someone who can push me further, ma'am,” he told her honestly. “To ensure to not only myself, but those who entrusted me with the safety of Remnant, that my skills are more than just my semblance.”

She seemed to mull over it, if her silence was one thing to go by. Her gaze held sharply to his for a long moment, dipping away in seeming resignation before she drew a low breath. The quiet sigh slipped from her.

“Let me give you just one piece of advice about Qrow Branwen,” she told him, cold gaze returning to his. “Do yourself a favour and stay away from him. _Regardless_ of your semblance.”

Her words were crisp and sharp, shutting him down before he'd even had the chance to speak. He knew it would be suicide to argue his point, but he knew he was a risk taker by nature. He also felt it was a rather baseless challenge thrown down by the woman.

“The General entrusted me as his charge. I would-”

“For _missions_ only. Your free time is better spent elsewhere. Far away from him.”

Green eyes watched her carefully, slipping past what she was actually saying, to why. What possible reason could Winter Schnee have to say all of this to him? So harshly? From his sharp taunt in the arena, he knew Qrow had fought her the same way; probably destroying her soundly, if this was anything to go by. Yet what other history did they share?

Or was it Ironwood saying all this? Merely using Winter as the loudspeaker for his words?

Either way, he knew he was taking a severe risk by challenging his superior's warning, but he'd be damned if he didn't like gambling with his life occasionally.

“Forgive me, but the General has no say on my private time unless it involves the reputation, use or abuse of military personnel and-or property,” he told her, heart suddenly thudding in his ears with the rise of adrenaline in his veins. “Regardless of what you may know of his history, I _don't_ share that knowledge, and if we're to become better partners in the field, my time is _best_ spent with Qrow. Regardless of _both_ our semblances.”

He snapped her a sharp salute, ignoring the way his ribs still pulled. “Now, if you'll excuse me, ma'am, my team and I are preparing for a mission later today, and I'd like to convene with them.”

If her gaze were a knife, his throat was now torn and ragged from the wounds she razed upon his skin.

Without returning the salute, she turned from him, heels clicking starkly in the empty room as she left in a silent haze of fury.

Her anger was one thing, and he had weathered that storm many times. This time was different, he realised in stark hindsight. Winter had been giving him a personal warning, one that he chose to push against rather abruptly.

Clover released the breath he'd been holding, attempting to ignore the tremor that trickled through him. It wasn't every day he got to stand up to his superior officer and send her storming off in a rage.

Well, it had be a fun, if not short career, his mind almost laughed at him, and he smiled wearily back at it.

***

Night settled upon the twin cities. Mantle glowed from within as streetlights began to wink on one by one, neon signs came to life, and people continued to trickle through the streets like ants. Atlas, sitting high within the cloudline, still caught the final rays of the dying sun, glimmering with glass and steel from afar, airships darting lazily between buildings like dragonflies about a pond.

Qrow sat upon one of the benches dotting the many outlooks at its border, arms slung across its back and gaze stretching out over the vast horizon their elevation offered. For most of the day, he'd been walking around in a kind of haze. Aura shattering was never an easy thing to recover from, and he felt like he'd overslept; his mind sluggish and tired ever since the adrenaline left him.

He'd done all the right things to help himself recover – relaxed deeply, drank something sweet (much to his disgust), and even ate something as per Weiss' instructions. For some reason, this time, he really couldn't shake the weariness; perhaps it had something to do with the fact he was on enforced downtime, or the fact they were all in a city of relative safety, and he could let his guard down a tad. Maybe he was just getting old. Whatever the case, it still didn't help the fact that a serious fight always took it out of him, regardless of appearances.

And Clover was one hell of a fighter.

His strength was a deceptive trap, he was sharp as a whip, and adaptive as hell on the field. He already knew that to some degree, but to be the one facing him, it was... something else.

It made him want to do it again.

Red eyes closed briefly as he tilted his head back, staring up at the stars as they eked out of the velvet blue above him, the first signs of the shining moon tinting what clouds remained high in the sky. It was an adrenaline thrill he hadn't felt for a long while now. An actual fight of pure skill where he didn't even have to  _ consider _ his semblance; it was something that had never happened to him before. It veritably set his senses alight.

To know the fight came down to nothing but raw skill and determination...

Maybe Ironwood was right all along when he sent them into that mine together. Pairing up their semblances to balance one another out was a veritable stroke of genius.

“Alright James, you win...” he murmured to himself.

“Oh? What's the prize?”

The soft voice behind him made him sit up, almost shocked to see Clover standing there. It brought his brain to a complete halt, and he frowned lightly as the man approached him.

“Do you have a tracker on me or something?”

Clover laughed softly. “I just returned from a mission, and happened to be looking out the window at the right time. Guess who I saw taking in the scenery?”

“Hm,” Qrow scrutinised him carefully. “The last transport to fly directly overhead was over an hour ago. And adjacent ones have been even longer. Are you _sure_ you weren't tracking me this entire time?” The smile couldn't stay from his lips at the light accusation, and Clover held up his hands.

“No promises. In my defence – you're right about the airship schedules, though I will say it's tough to escape from a debriefing when Winter is out for blood.”

Qrow conceded the point, moving over and allowing the man to sit with him. The brunet did so easily, staring out over the expansive horizon, one arm slung along the back of the bench in a mirror fashion to his benchmate. Red eyes traced him gently, the last glint of the sun softening the operative's features as he was lost in the horizon for a moment.

“You too, huh?”

Green eyes turned back to face him. Qrow gave a pointed glance to the gleaming spire behind them.

“She gave me one of those not so long ago today; not like she hasn't tried before. Something about keeping my toes in line and not beating up her subordinates on a whim. I never really listen to her, to be honest.” Qrow gave a heavy sigh and faced the horizon once more. “I can only guess what she hit you for. Improper use of military property, jeopardising future missions if you got injured, or just being a Schnee and taking it out on those around her.”

Clover laughed, turning back towards the glimmering horizon. “She actually told me to stay away from you.”

Red eyes snapped back to him, all lightness gone from his expression, his stomach immediately twisting at the words. A thousand thoughts began running through his mind, predominantly as to why Winter was right; no one should be around him at all. Clover met his glance, an easy smile on his face.

“Don't worry, I told her to shove it.”

Qrow's eyes widened, brows arching almost impossibly before he'd replayed the words through his head a few more times. Even then, the phrase caught in his head and broke the surprised smile across his face. “You  _ what? _ ” he laughed, the sound tearing from him, bright and astonished.

The brunet joined him, shrugging lightly. “Alright, maybe not in those  _ exact _ terms, but I told her she has no say in what I do in my free time.” He gave a languid stretch, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. “I mean, at this point I'm practically packing my bags and saying goodbye to my team.”

Qrow couldn't keep his mirth under control, laughing with abandon. Clover was fast becoming not at  _ all _ what he expected. He was still grinning ear to ear as he leant back once more, shaking his head. Gods he wanted to be there when that happened... To see the look on her face was probably worth the dent in Clover's career. The thought drew the snicker from him once more.

“That's better.”

The wayward breath of a voice drew his gaze back to Clover, who was watching him gently.

“Suits you more than a frown,” he told him softly.

Warmth settled at the huntsman's collar and he hesitated for a long moment. Turning away once more, he kept his eyes on the ground beneath them. He knew it was a lifetime of practised ease that kept him from acknowledging it, accepting it. He knew it was why he felt the sudden push of his heart in his throat; trying to unlearn something was making his palms itch and his stomach knot.

“You're... an incredible fighter,” he told him quietly.

“Qrow-”

The huntsman held up a hand and shook his head, knowing the exact tone of that voice. “I... I'm not deflecting, alright? Just... just gimme a second to answer here.”

Red eyes refused to meet his gaze as they stared at the ground, and he leant forward, elbows braced on his knees as he stewed over his words. Clover almost wanted to sigh, but he held his tongue; the man had swathes of his life he wasn't privy to, so it was understandable that Qrow needed to take more than a moment gather his thoughts.

But his stance screamed defensive, and it almost hurt to watch.

“It's... been forever since I've managed to fight someone with such an incredible level of skill. Not just fighting for my life, but just... having fun with it. Enjoying the thrill. Doing what these kids do best,” his mind trailed off, lost briefly in thoughts of his nieces. “They've... helped me remember that... slowly but surely over the years. Hell, even up until now. But there was something they could never fix.”

Clover gently entered the silence that stretched between them. “Your semblance.”

“Good ol' misfortune...” Qrow murmured. Fingers rubbed themselves lightly as the frown settled deep on his brow. “You live your whole life realising that there's no going back from whatever hell lands on your doorstop, you end up fighting whatever the world throws at you. And hey, I think I've gotten pretty good at that, if I do say so myself.”

He balled his hands lightly, picking through his words. “But... winding up here with the kids... I think was the best fortune I've had in a long while.”

Clover willed himself not to say anything, to break the reverie that Qrow had burrowed himself into. If he did anything now, it was likely going to fall apart between their fingers. He desperately wanted to avoid that at all costs; especially when Qrow was being so open, so vulnerable with him.

“All of a sudden, my semblance doesn't matter, and I'm actually able to live a little like a normal human being. And it's been... it's been good...” He stared up at the horizon, the words slipping out more for himself than the man next to him. “It takes a weight off your mind and... and for the first time in _years_... you get your breath back.”

Time slipped around them, and Clover almost suspected the huntsman to be finished before that ragged sigh fell from him like the weight he spoke about. A quiet, haunted sound. Red eyes closed, fighting back more than the words he spoke, and he scrubbed a hand over his face.

“So when... you tell me it's good that I'm smiling...” he began once more, voice thick with unshed emotion as he dropped his hand, staring at the ground. “Believe me... I know it is, too.”

Clover quietly unfolded his arms, sitting forward as one hand slipped gently to a shoulder, squeezing lightly. The action wasn't shrugged off, nor did the huntsman flinch from him, despite the tension he felt under fabric. What surprised him lightly was the hand that snaked up to cover his own, warm and sure, holding firm.

For a long moment, they sat there, just like that, silence settling between them and melding with the music of the city behind them. It was a gentle peace they shared, and Qrow couldn't help the breath that escaped him as the knot in his stomach began to fray, and the unease that sat within him started to unwind. He closed his eyes, feeling the tension slip from him at the point in his body where warmth curled under his fingers.

It was almost a visible change in the huntsman. His shoulders released as he wearily sat back, still keeping a hold on that hand. At this point, it was like an anchor for him, guiding him gently up from the place he had lain his head. Green eyes watched him so carefully, ensuring there was no faltering as he came back up for air.

“Thank you...” Clover breathed.

Red eyes blinked open, taking a moment to process what he'd heard before the faint smile crossed his lips, weariness a heavy blanket around his shoulders.

“Given everything... I think I need to thank you first...” he replied. Fingers squeezed gently at his shoulder.

“You had a choice to tell me everything, or nothing,” came the gentle explanation. “I'm glad you felt strong enough to tell me that.”

Qrow closed his eyes once more, the words feeling like raw antiseptic on open wounds; it stung to hear, hurt his heart like no other, yet he knew it was something he needed. It pulled at him, to hear such a response, to  _ feel _ such a response, and he relished it.

Heat burned behind closed lids, and he drew away his hand to rub at them. It was one thing to allow himself to feel this kind of rollercoaster again, but it was another thing to let someone see him go through it.

The thought was almost entirely abolished when the hand at his shoulder slid across fabric, settling an arm around him entirely and drawing him flush against Clover's side, holding firm. Warmth pressed to the side of his head as the man allowed his own to rest against him, watching the dark horizon.

“...thank you...”

Again, the simple breath of words between them, and Qrow let the back of his knuckles brush against Clover's thigh, fingers finding purchase on the fabric and curling gently, needing that anchor once more.

How long had he lived like this, Clover's mind wondered absently. How long had he kept himself in such a tightly buried mess of knots upon knots, and not the facade of the huntsman they all saw? How long had it been since he allowed himself to truly be a person, and not someone ruled by the disgusting powers that governed his life?

The ragged shudder of breath next to him gave him a fairly certain idea, and he held him firm, letting him ride out this internal storm as long as he needed. He knew there was no single origin for the state life had left him in, and the simmering anger that brimmed beneath his skin would have no real release. He was angry at the hand that had been dealt to the huntsman. Angry that life had forced him to go against his will so, so many times. Angry that everything he'd ever had to go through had scarred and misshapen the very image of his self.

Clover had nothing but charm and blessings in his life.

Qrow was thrown little more than torn off scraps of perverted luck, masquerading as truth.

Fingers slipped from his shoulder to thread into dark hair, running gently between locks; a simple, comforting movement in their wake. The tension in that form next to him had begun to fade away, leaving in its place a weariness that even he knew so well. Qrow had allowed himself to sink against the man, feeling all but boneless as the knots began to fray, and his tightly wound self-control slipped through his fingers like sand.

The hand that covered his face dropped away, resting on his lap as he stared, unseeing, at the ground before him. Despite the cold that settled around them, he seemed not to notice, feeling only the warmth at his side, and fingers twining gently into his hair.

Glistening red eyes closed once more, leaning gently into the man. He knew it was more than weariness that made him stay there. More than the trust he had extended to him. He knew there would be no stepping back from this comfort that had warmed his hands like a match in a snowstorm.

He'd found someone who'd let him breathe, for once in his life.

He slowly let his eyes blink open once more, fingers curling lightly where they still sat. Going forward should have terrified him, given him ample time to hesitate, brought him to an utter stop... yet he couldn't find any trace of it in his heart.

None whatsoever.

Maybe his luck really had changed for the better.

“...hey...”

His voice sounded dry, thick, his throat still hurting from keeping it all within, and he swallowed tightly. There was a shift of movement from where their temples pressed together, and fingers stilled in his hair.

“... don't know about you, but... I'm freezing my ass off here.”

The words drew the soft snort of laughter from the man, mirth spilling between them once more. Clover gently retracted himself from where he'd all but curled around the huntsman, allowing cold air to slip between them once more, but not before reaching to twine his fingers with the ones still sitting at his thigh.

“You sure know how to woo a girl,” he told him softly, drawing the ragged laugh from Qrow.

“You should see what I can do when I'm trying,” came the simple reply, thumb brushing over warm skin.

The faint smile never faltered from Clover's lips as he stood, feeling tired joints protest the sudden change. Qrow stayed for a moment, eyes falling to where their hands joined. He still... couldn't find anything in his heart to say no to this. Where normally he would push away and shun and hide, this felt... different. Comforting in an utterly foreign way.

“I'll take your word for it,” Clover breathed, fingers giving a gentle squeeze. “Come on. Let's get you somewhere warmer before your other wing freezes off.”

The affectionate frown cross his expression as Qrow glanced up at the man. “Bird jokes? Really?”

It didn't stop him from standing up wearily, wanting to shake his head at the man. Clover gave him a brief shrug, looking utterly unaffected by the accusation.

“I _did_ promise you bird jokes, and I hate to break a promise,” he replied. Qrow felt his expression slip entirely, warm smile crossing his weary features as he began to walk with the man. Their shoulders brushed as the cool night air slipped around them.

“Lucky me...”


	6. Good Food And Good Company

An easy silence filtered between them as they walked through the crisp night. Snatches of simple conversation and easy, warm laughter walked with them. Whatever topic their words fell to, it always stayed light. Comforting. Something to unwind with.

It wasn't at all that Qrow was choosing to bury what he'd shared with the man earlier. Not by a long shot. He felt that tonight, there was no room left in his soul for such a wrenching, raw discussion. Clover, to his utter relief, shared this unspoken belief, and to his absolute credit, provided nothing but warmth and brightness.

Their hands never unlaced from one another, and the moon had made her track through the sky, slung high in the perch of the night sky like a jewel upon a crown; full and gleaming.

The scant citizens they passed paid them no mind as they slowly made their way around the perimeter of the city. Clover was happy to talk about said city as they went, turning the conversation to various landmarks they passed, the history of some of its buildings, even switching directions entirely and pointing out to the mountain ranges that surrounded Mantle. He related stories of his team and couldn't help but laugh at some of the antics and mistakes of their freshly formed alliance.

“Here I thought you Ace Ops didn't allow yourself to get attached to one another,” Qrow taunted lightly.

“I've been known to make exceptions once or twice.”

“Careful now, Winter'll brand you a rebel against authority.”

Clover allowed himself a soft laugh. “I'd like to see her try when I've got Ironwood at my back.”

“Oh she'd try alright. The real kicker is knowing _how_ to push her buttons without her trying to kick your ass.” Qrow couldn't help the wicked smile that crossed his lips.

“Personal experience, I take it?”

“Only a lifetime of it.”

Clover shook his head lightly at him. “I'm still surprised she only ever really fought you the once,” he commented. “Makes you wonder how far she'd have gone if it weren't for the General's intervention.” Qrow took a moment to mull over the fact, brows pinching as he kept returning to the one thought.

“She would've pushed as hard as she could, just to see me lose. To prove a point. Not that it would've done her any good with my semblance around.”

It was a matter-of-fact statement, spoken exactly that way, but Clover's hand still squeezed ever so gently. Qrow shook his head lightly, glancing up at the man briefly, a faint smile covering his expression.

“No, not dwelling on it; just stating a pure fact. She's an incredible fighter, but...” he gave a quiet sigh. “James... stepped in at the right time.”

Green eyes watched him carefully, knowing from his words there was more to it that that. The story didn't simply end there, but he didn't want to press the man. He also didn't want to leave him dwelling in the dark thoughts that crept back into his mind at the memory.

“Have you eaten?”

Qrow blinked back at him. “Uh, yeah.” A moment of pause as he actually thought about it. “Oh. Uh. No. Not for a while.” Another pause as he frowned in heavy realisation. “A  _ long _ while.”

“Define 'a long while,'” Clover deadpanned at him.

“... sometime after our match?”

“You do realise it's better to eat something after your aura breaks? It _does_ help with recovery.”

The huntsman waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, you're not the first person today to tell me that.” He gave a low sigh, as if his stomach had suddenly woken up with the notion of food. “Just... didn't feel like it, I guess.”

“How about now? Feel up for something?” Clover asked lightly.

Red eyes glanced up at him, actually weighing up the option. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and thumb through some pages for a while until he fell into an exhausted sleep. On the other... Clover had helped him through potentially one of the heaviest conversations he'd had to date. Actually listened to him and wasn't repulsed or dismayed by who he was. Wanted nothing more than to comfort him and help him.

And it had made him feel... lighter.

So much lighter.

The warmth still laced around his fingers where their hands joined, a visceral anchor to that connection he needed so sorely. His chest still ached from their quiet words as they sat on the bench, and he resisted the urge to ghost fingers over his sternum. He reached to his stomach instead, giving them something less conspicuous to rest against. Maybe something to eat would help the feeling disappear, and he  _ was _ in the mood for something now Clover had mentioned it.

“Yeah... sounds pretty good.”

“Then I know just the place,” Clover said after a heartbeat. He dismissed the sceptical brow that raised in his direction, pointing a little further up the walkway. “There's a restaurant a little further up; it's kind of a favourite among the senior cadets, but at this time of night, it'll be quiet.”

Qrow traded his raised brow for a light frown. Just the place indeed; it was no wonder he'd been walking them in this very direction. Still, he was being offered a free meal and continued good company for another hour or so.

“Alright then, lead the way.”

The operative offered him a broad smile as fingers gave a gentle squeeze, almost finishing their short walk with a veritable spring in his step. Qrow thought it was downright amusing how the man could go from such a gentle yet firm presence by his side, to someone excited about showing his partner the best secret eating spot in the city.

The guy never seemed to lose his smile, nor the rhythm to his own song, and it was warming to see.

That was enough to keep the faint smile on his lips as they reached their destination; tucked behind a city block and down a narrow side street, and Clover untangled their fingers, reaching up to slide the door open. Warmth washed over them as they stepped in; that and the most incredible smells Qrow had experienced in a long time. He almost couldn't stop the groan as he stomach twisted in utter need. He didn't even know what they served but he just about wanted everything so far.

“Oh Clover, hi!”

A young waitress waved to him from behind the counter, bringing Qrow back to the world around him. It looked like a quaint little place, with tables and chairs crammed in wherever they would fit, and a few customers tucked into corners or up at the counter, digging into some rather large bowls. A rap to his shoulder for attention, and he was trailing after Clover as the waitress led them to a table at the back.

As Qrow slid into his seat, he picked out one of the menus from next to him, thumbing through it lightly. Noodles, mostly, but there were some other tasty delights taunting him as well. Gods, he really  _ could _ eat one of everything with the way his stomach was growling right now.

“Your usual for tonight? Or did you want me to come back after a bit?” the girl asked, pen poised above her notepad. Clover smiled easily at her, leaning back in his chair.

“Better make it two for us. And a pot of tea, thank you; it's mighty cold out there on patrol,” he told her. Red eyes paused from where they scanned the menu, realisation sinking into his bones. He hadn't even thought about that...

About what it would look like to the rest of the world around them if the leader of the Ace Ops was seen strolling around hand in hand with someone.  _ Especially _ if they walked into a place where it seemed like Clover was  _ very  _ well known. He'd been so caught up in his own problems that he hadn't even considered the fact they'd be causing someone  _ else _ problems.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured once the girl had left.

Clover's eyes turned back to him, confusion ticking over in his mind. “About what?” The huntsman pushed the menu away, leaning back in his seat, somewhat avoiding that pointed stare.

“I don't want to damage your reputation by forcing you to lie.”

Green eyes dropped in understanding. “Ah. That.” He leant forward, forearms resting on the table as he clasped his hands before them, voice lowering a notch. “As far as I'm aware, I was keeping an eye out for Grimm along the perimeter of the city. It's what any huntsman worth their salt would be doing.” He tilted his head a little as red eyes met his. “And during that time, I happened to be escorting a fellow huntsman who had just experienced quite a hefty blow.”

Qrow couldn't help the smirk as he watched him carefully, almost scrutinising him. “You really do have an excuse for everything, huh? Gods, no wonder you'll never leave the military,” he added with a soft laugh.

“It's not an excuse,” Clover told him with a shake of his head. “We're partners on the field, Qrow. That means we have each other's backs, no matter what. And with everything you shared with me, there was no way I was going to leave you hanging.” Green eyes refused to leave Qrow's, who seemed utterly stricken as the man spoke to him. “In that moment, you needed something to ground you, and I wasn't going to be anything else but an anchor for you. Whatever you need from me, I'll be there to help you with. Whether it be something as simple as that, or anything else.”

It was like a blanket had been thrown around his senses, for all Qrow could do was stare back at the man, the world around them lost to him as he was utterly thrown for a loop after his snide comment. He could feel the heat gathering under his collar again and he tore his gaze away, blinking a little too rapidly as he tried to focus on any of the decorations around the place.

Qrow felt the sudden twist in his chest, and he almost wanted to get angry at it; the only emotion that wanted to flare up in response. How dare Clover be so good at telling him exactly what he needed to hear. Once more, in the space of one night, the man had burrowed expertly under his skin to mine away at the shards that sat deep within his chest. Chipping, chipping, until something dislodged, falling to the ground with a resounding clatter.

A firm warmth covered his hand on the table, and he closed his eyes, brows knitting. No, he wouldn't do this again, not here.

He took in a deeper breath, feeling his heart thud between full lungs, slowly letting it out and bringing himself back down. He repeated the same action, once more feeling the breath escape him in a shaky sigh, letting himself unwind from the deep-seated shock of hearing someone speak honestly to him.

He turned his hand under Clover's fingers giving a faint squeeze to let him know he was fine. When the action was returned, he withdrew softly, curling fingers up to his eyes, rubbing them tiredly.

“I'm not even kidding,” he began wearily. “Please quit the military and switch careers.”

The soft laugh slipped from Clover, still watching him carefully as he leant forward on the table.

“Only if you get to be my star patient,” he told him earnestly. Qrow couldn't stop the huff of a laugh that slipped from him.

“Considering my _impressive_ laundry list of issues, I think I'll be your _only_ patient.”

Clover was unperturbed. “Guess I better draw up a payment plan.” They were briefly interrupted as their tea arrived, the brunet pouring them each a cup. “So, a question – if it's not too intrusive – I've been wondering for a while now,” he slid a cup to the huntsman, picking up his own. “How does it feel up there? Nothing but you and the sky.”

It took Qrow a moment to play catch-up with the sudden shift in topics, and he held both hands around his cup, actually mulling it over. The novelty was still there, fresh as the first day he'd received it. Memory and sensation flicked behind red eyes, and Clover watched his journey with keen interest.

“It's... freeing,” he finally settled on. “Kind of cliché to say it, I guess, but... it's the truth.” He took a sip from his tea, finding it too hot still, and sat it back down with a sigh, fingers still tracing the patterns on the cup. “When you're up there, you can see what feels like the whole continent underneath you. Just you and the clouds and the horizon. The wind in your hair. Not a care in the world. It's like no other high you can get.”

“You mean feathers, right?”

Qrow raised his brows in questioning.

“You said hair.”

“Oh no, I meant it. That's the best part about being up there; coming back to this-” he gave a brief gesture to himself “-and letting yourself freefall from cruising altitude. That's when you really feel the weight of the world just... falling away.”

Clover smiled warmly back at him, nursing his cup and enjoying the subtle change in the huntsman's expression. There was a note of relaxation that had spread through him, whether it be from what he was speaking about, or the warmth and smell of the food around them. It was fast becoming a firm priority in his life that Qrow remain happier, something that almost surprised him.

He found he wanted nothing more than to help the man see he was more than his semblance. He wanted to understand him better; to find out what he brought him so low in his life, and to help rebuild what had been broken and shattered. He wanted to hear more of his stories, his experiences, his travels.

He couldn't really put a finger on it, but he knew he was doing more than just following orders when it came to partnering up with the huntsman. Hell, he was doing far more than  _ disobeying them _ when it came to certain people too. He just found Qrow to be a downright fascinating individual, someone who continued to surprise him in the most interesting ways.

Red eyes flicked back to his, and Clover realised with startling clarity that he'd been staring straight at the man since he'd finished speaking. He sat back with his cup, nursing it lightly.

“That sounds incredible...” He let his gaze wander to the ceiling in thought. “Gods, there are days I wish I could be a part of that world. Just take off and think about nothing for a while.”

Qrow couldn't help the amused laugh that slipped from him, bringing Clover's eyes back to his. The huntsman waved him off lightly as his mirth faded.

“Sorry, but that sounds like the most honest and out-of-character thing you've said to me yet,” he told him, still grinning. Clover returned the smile with an easy one of his own.

“What, just because I'm in the military, doesn't mean I can't enjoy a little freedom from time to time?”

“Not at all, be my guest. Gods knows I'd want out occasionally,” came the instant reply. “Just that it was nice to hear you speak your mind so earnestly.”

“I thought I'd been pretty honest with you so far.” There was only a faint tone of indignation in his voice, making it almost sound like a pout. Qrow could only smirk at him.

“Honest, sure. But stuffy, buttoned-up and a little too stiff at the same time? I get enough of that from James, and it always rubs me the wrong way after a while.” Qrow took a sip from his tea; a far better temperature now. “Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy, but he's a little too 'General' for my tolerance lately.”

Clover couldn't help the mischievous smirk. “Well then, I'll promise to relax a little more around you and not ruffle any of your feathers, deal?”

Qrow nearly banged his cup to the table, resisting the urge to throw it, and buried his face in his hands. “Gods I regret ever telling you that...” he groaned from behind his fingers. The brunet could only laugh at him, relishing every chance he could taunt him with terrible bird puns.

He and Taiyang both, Qrow's mind grumbled. It wasn't so bad with Clover –  _ yet _ – but gods the blond was an  _ entirely  _ different story. Nearly every chance the bastard could get, daily life was all but peppered with comments like that. Qrow had already cut out his sister from his life; he wasn't about to shy away from doing the same to his brother-in-law.

And if this kept up, he was going to cut the Atlas Military out of his life for good.

“I swear I'm going to ki-”

“Alright, two usuals for the usual.” The voice of the waitress cut Qrow off from saying anything he would likely regret in the morning, and he dropped his hands, sitting back as two _very_ large bowls were placed before them. “Enjoy it, hun,” she told the brunet with a wave, and left the two of them in peace. Clover reached for his chopsticks, about to dig in, when he hesitated.

“Something the matter?”

Qrow blinked a little, glancing up at him. “I didn't think anything of it when you said your usual, but this is... kind of huge.” He tentatively reached for his own utensils, snapping apart the chopsticks. “Is your stomach  _ usually _ the size of a small Grimm?” The brunet made a brief noise of thought, plucking at some of the noodles.

“Not usually, but I guarantee you'll want to eat everything that's there,” he assured him, tucking in to his first mouthful. He gestured lightly with his chopsticks, chewing and swallowing in a forgetful rush. “It's a spicy one, so watch out.”

“Well, lucky for you I don't have an aversion to spicy food,” Qrow told him, stirring the bowl lightly. He stuffed a few noodles in his mouth and was utterly rewarded with heat and spice and rich flavour. It had been an age since he'd had food that tasted as good as this, and he almost couldn't stop the groan that slipped from him. It tasted downright incredible and from what he saw, it looked just as cheap, too; it was no wonder it was a popular dive for some of the cadets.

“See? Good stuff,” Clover told him between mouthfuls. Qrow just waved him off, suddenly way more interested in filling his face than talking. The brunet could only smile at him before returning to his own bowl. He didn't feel so bad, he realised, about overloading the man with food the other night, given the way he was utterly stuffing his face across from him. He guessed it had something to do with being on the road so often, but Clover simply added another note to his mental list; now he'd just have to make sure the huntsman ate enough, too.

They ate in relative silence; Clover enjoying one of his favourite meals, and Qrow finding a new favourite altogether. Conversation slipped out here and there, but for the most part, the only sounds around them were the ambient ones of the restaurant until bowls were emptied and stomachs were full.

Qrow pushed his bowl back a little, sitting back in his seat with a satisfied groan. He felt like he'd just eaten for a week straight, and probably wouldn't need to eat for another three. It was no wonder the operative found this to be his favourite place.

Clover finished up his own bowl and sat back, one hand resting on his stomach. “That sure hits the spot.”

“Oof... I don't want to think about food for another month,” Qrow murmured. “How'd you find this place? And don't say anything about luck, I swear.”

The brunet laughed at him. “It was during my days as a cadet. Some friends and I used to come here after cram sessions, or after exams as a reward,” he glanced over at the counter, where they could hear the sounds of activity somewhere in the kitchen. “The owner of this place has a daughter that went to one of my classes, and he always gave the rest of us a bit of a discount after seeing how hard she studied.”

Clover stretched his arms up, tucking them behind his head as he leant back in his seat. “Good for us, since we spent nearly all of our spare lien here.”

“Now I know why,” Qrow agreed. “Explains the greeting, too.”

“Mm, that's his youngest daughter. She never joined the Academy, but since her dad's business was booming, she decided to help him out.”

There was a moment of pause and Clover realised he was being stared at in an oddly analytical way. “Broth on my face?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Qrow laughed at him, smiling warmly at the man. “No, no. Just realising something,” he began. “You've never left Atlas, have you?”

Green eyes blinked back at him, brow rising slightly. “How do you figure?” he asked almost too carefully. Qrow reached for a new cup of tea, swirling it lightly.

“Because that's the kind of story someone would tell from a cherished childhood, hometown memory. Complete with knowing all the details of someone else's life story.” The huntsman took a long draught from his cup. “All the tales on the way here? Every single place you know about, and all the little details that only someone having grown up here would know about? Together with the fact that you've probably made a career out of the military as it's the only viable escape from this place. But... I'm willing to bet _luck_ got in the way and you've made your way up the ranks to where you are now.” He placed his cup to the table. “Am I wrong?”

Clover could only laugh softly at him, meeting those red eyes with a broad smile. He held his gaze a moment longer before raising his hands in defeat.

“Alright, you got me. Guilty as charged,” he told him. The brunet gave a sigh and leant forward on the table, chin atop clasped hands. “I guess this means if I should've been a shrink, then you should've been a detective.” Qrow's fingers lightly twisted the cup still in his hand, a faint smile on his face.

“You work with Ozpin and James long enough, you learn to start looking harder and asking yourself a few questions.”

The brunet knew that was more than a loaded statement, and he decided on the gracious option of leaving it alone for now.

“Well, you're good at it, that's for sure,” he replied instead. “But not so much about the luck part. I knew going into the military was a career option, sure. _And_ a good means of getting out of Atlas. So I studied hard. Trained harder. Pushed myself to be a better person than the day before.” Green eyes flicked to the table, tucking himself into a memory for a heartbeat. “It wasn't until my second last year that my semblance unlocked.”

Qrow hovered over those words for a moment before realisation dawned on him like an arrow to the forehead, red eyes widening lightly.

_ Oh _ .

“People started chalking up everything you did to that...” he breathed in understanding. Clover gave a simple nod.

“As you can imagine, I went from being the hardest working cadet in the Academy, to overnight being the kid who got through life because of the happy whims of fate,” the melancholy smile tinted his expression and he gave a one-shouldered shrug. “So I made up my mind. If people were willing to believe that and nothing else, then I would continue doing what I'd always done to prove them wrong. Study hard. Train harder. Be the better person.

“In the end, I'd shown through enough training sessions, exam time and field studies that luck had nothing to do with it. That I'd always been the same cadet everyone else knew. Diligence paid off, and upon graduation, I was awarded the rank of Lieutenant and given a post to the west of Mantle.”

Qrow gave a light frown at the words. “But you still didn't get out of Atlas. Not really.”

“I didn't,” Clover conceded. “But after working out in the field for a while, I soon learned that there was more than enough that could be done in my own kingdom, let alone my own region, that travelling the world became... almost secondary. If I could do the same amount of good for people here as I could halfway across the world, it was all that mattered to me.”

There was a brief lull in his monologue and he gave a quiet sigh, feeling old aches rising once more.

“In the end... we're huntsmen. It doesn't matter where we are. Aren't we satisfied we're doing _some_ good in this world?”

The words turned Qrow's blood to ice as they echoed in his chest, brows pinching and shoving him face-first into the past. His hand cupped in slender porcelain fingers, silver eyes beaming up at him. A year after graduation. Slaughtered Grimm lay like fallen leaves about their feet, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Summer wrapping a bandage about torn skin.

_Aren't you proud you're doing some good in this world, Qrow?_

Something in his chest twisted painfully and he tore his gaze away, blinking at the floor. It was a memory. Just a memory. He swallowed hard, forcing his mind to ignore the parallel. There was  _ no way _ Clover knew who Summer was, or even knew what it was he'd said to trigger the dormant memory.

It was all this talk of the past. Fingers curled almost tightly about his cup and he closed his eyes briefly. It was  _ just  _ a memory...

“Qrow, wh-”

A cascading crash of crockery and pans spilling to the floor cut off every line of conversation in the restaurant, all eyes darting towards the kitchen. There was a distant string of dismayed cursing in a another language and Qrow gave a heavy sigh, almost glad for the drastic shift in tone.

“And there it is...” he murmured, bringing his cup to his lips and draining the rest of it. “Come on, I think I've overstayed my welcome.” He reached into his pocket, dropping a contributing amount of lien onto the table as he stood.

Clover seemed a little torn for a moment, but ultimately ended up doing the same. He followed after Qrow as he stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the night air and releasing it in a heavy sigh. The cold was almost welcoming after the lulling warmth of both the restaurant and their food.

Without so much a word, the two of them continued their original path along the perimeter walkway, Qrow tucking his good hand into a pocket as he stared up at the sky. The brunet at his side seemed content to follow the same pattern in his step, meandering through his own thoughts. There was a gentle brush at his arm and he glanced over at green eyes.

“You want to tell me what that was about?”

It was a gentle tone, nothing demanding in its pacing and Qrow smiled faintly at him, returning his gaze to the stars. He said nothing for a moment, mulling over the answer, before he settled on the truth.

“You just... reminded me of someone who said nearly the exact same thing to me, long ago,” he breathed. “Summer... Ruby's mother.”

Silence lingered between them as Clover took his time to process that. If he felt awkward about it, it hardly showed, and he nodded simply.

“A... good memory, I hope?” he ventured. Qrow gave a breathy laugh.

“Don't worry. Summer gave us all nothing but good memories. Just like her daughter,” he replied warmly. “Though, just like her daughter, she was prone to making you age about five years during combat. We all take risks on the field, sure, but man... those two...”

He laughed again as he found himself wandering through happier, if not death-defying, memories. Clover watched him for a moment, glad to see he hadn't entirely lost the man to a darker shade of the past, and he smiled as he turned back to the path before them.

“If Ruby's anything to go by, then the world is in good hands.” Spoken without a sense of cliché; he honestly believed his words. “Her mother, too. She sounds like she was a good person.”

“The best,” Qrow agreed softly in a heartbeat.

Without even realising it immediately, the huntsman felt the knot in his chest had all but unravelled. Talking about the past seemed... all too easy to do around Clover, and all of his words came without the price of shame or humiliation. Even now, when it would've been all too easy to lose himself in the sorrow of Summer's passing, he felt nothing but lightness as he spoke of her.

He was sure Clover felt the same way when it came to tales of his own past. The brunet's own suffering and humiliation at the hands of his semblance – an experience once again mirroring his own – and how he'd rallied against that emotional turmoil in his life.

Damn James for knowing them  _ both _ so well...

Clover was simply so easy to talk to. Something that he'd been years without. It made him realise just how deep of a hole he had lost himself in, and just how easy it was to reach a hand up for help. And how willing the brunet was to extend his hand in return.

Brows pinched lightly, feeling his stomach twist lightly. Maybe he really shouldn't have eaten so much.

“Geez, where did the time go...” the murmur at his side brought him back to the present; Clover staring intently at his scroll, dismay on his expression. He brought the two of them to a stop as he tucked it away. “I hate to be the one to cut and run but I have an operations briefing I need to get to.”

Qrow gave him a lopsided smirk. “Not in the mood to rebel against authority and blow them off?”

The brunet was already heading in the direction of the Academy, walking backwards with his arms spread wide. “When it's Winter leading it? I like my life.”

“With any luck you'll make it in time!” Qrow shot after his disappearing form, earning him a bright laugh as the operative jogged off up the street.

“Well if I don't see you again, this was fun!” Clover waved back at him, vanishing around a corner.

The words died with the breeze that drifted past him, and Qrow was left standing suddenly very alone on the path. As quickly as he'd found him that night, Clover was retreating back into Atlas, duty ever calling.

He reached up with his good hand, scratching lightly through his hair as he continued down the walkway, faint smile on his lips. The guy might still be a pretty big enigma to him, but he'd learnt a little more about him. In return, the brunet had helped him through a heaping helping of what would have normally turned Qrow straight to a glass and eventually the whole bottle.

Red eyes glanced up at the sky as he walked. Tonight felt... so different. He felt lighter. Like the darkness that had weighed down on his shoulders had been lifted. Maybe he should've tried this whole 'talking to people' thing a long time ago, he realised with a soft laugh.

His stomach reminded him that he'd eaten too much again and he rubbed at it idly. He was going to have to tell his nieces about that place; they'd go absolutely spare in there. It prompted him to bring out his own scroll, intent on writing a reminder.

What greeted him was a flood of missed messages from Ruby, with increasing intensity, interspersed with missed calls, and his expression dropped entirely.

“Oh no...”


	7. Frustrations And Falterings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... was a tough chapter to know where to split. Mainly because of wanting to get to the second half of it, but not wanting to dump another 4000 words on top of this, just to keep it one big, long-running scene. I promise it'll be worth the wait tho <3

Qrow walked the long hallway to his room, spying the lone figure sitting cross-legged at his door. The girl had buried herself in a game whilst waiting, if her distant grumbles and cheers and general noises were anything to go by.

He smiled as he approached her, sliding in silently next to her and bonking her head lightly with a fist. She startled so hard her scroll fumbled in her hands with a shriek, and she snatched it up, clutching it to her chest with a relieved sigh.

“Uncle Qrow!” she cried in his ear as she vaulted into his arms. “I was worried sick! I hadn't heard anything, and neither had Yang, and you weren't in your room, and no one had seen you since this morning-!”

“Easy there, kiddo, easy,” he placated her, returning the tight hug. “I didn't mean to make you worry. But I'm fine, promise.”

She pulled back from him, frowning deeply. “You  _ promise _ promise?”

He crossed his fingers in front of him, giving her a wink. “Super duper promise.”

“Then that's good enough for me,” she laughed, squeezing him briefly once more before stepping back to glance over him. “Do you feel better now at least?” He fished for his keycard in his pocket, clicking the door open with a soft beep.

“I... yeah. I do,” he told her, letting them both into the room. “I feel better than I have for a while, actually,” he added, almost surprising himself with the admission. Even Ruby, master of the oblivious, blinked a little at him, noticing that his smile seemed a little... warmer. That there wasn't so much of a tightness in his shoulders. That he actually _said that_ to her, instead of saying something else entirely.

“What'd you end up doing?” she asked, all sweetness and innocence as she reached for the water jug, pouring them both a glass.

“Oh, the usual boring stuff all the textbooks say to do: eat something, drink something sweet – which I hated, thanks – took a bit of a nap in the library, went for a walk, and did a bit of sightseeing around Atlas.” He tilted the glass in her direction as thanks, taking a sip.

“I also scored a free meal at a place you are going to want to destroy, thanks to Clover.”

Her ears perked and she tried desperately not to react to visibly to the man's name.

“What... kind of place?” she forced herself to ask as smoothly as she could. Smooth, she told herself, smooth like melted butter.

“There's this noodle place on the western edge of the city,” he told her, seemingly oblivious to her internal plight. “And cheap, too. I haven't eaten a meal like that in years.” He gave a soft laugh, bringing his water to his lips again.

Ruby felt the hornets buzzing in her ears hearing how he'd spent dinner with Clover. Probably longer, since it was highly unlikely they just happened upon each other in the  _ whole of Atlas. _ It really  _ was _ so obvious like Weiss had said. But more than that, it was the first time in a long time that he sounded content; it was almost strange to hear how relaxed and downright happy her uncle sounded.

She'd missed it.

“It was nice of him to come and check on you after your match,” she beamed up at him. Qrow offered her a warm smile, reaching over to ruffle her hair lightly.

“Yeah, and you didn't? Miss 'I'm gonna sit outside his door and fret until he comes home?'” She snorted in soft laughter, pushing his hand away.

“Well yeah!” she laughed at him. “Uncle Qrow, you didn't answer a _single message!_ What am I supposed to think? You could've been out in a snow field somewhere with _another_ broken arm!”

He could do nothing but laugh at her. “Hey, no more of that for a while, I promise. Besides, Atlas medical tech is pretty good; I hardly realise I'm wearing this thing half the time,” he reached up to rap his knuckles against the flexible cast. “Seriously now; don't stress. I was in good company.”

His words were enough to bring her back down and she couldn't help the quiet breath that left her. She knew she had to sit back and trust his judgement when he said he really was alright; he'd lasted this long in life without her worrying over him, that's for sure. But she'd also seen him severely injured in the past, and aside from a handful of other people in her life, he was one of the few family she had left.

She was also one of the few people  _ he _ had left.

It was damn well within her right to fret over him occasionally, and she did sigh at that, bringing her glass to her lips briefly. His words kept rolling around in her mind, though.  _ Good company _ .

Everything that Yang has told them today. Everything they'd discussed. It all seemed so obvious to everyone else, but to her... all she could see was that her uncle had found someone to finally be himself around. Someone he could trust a little.

Trust.

She fought the urge to fidget fingers about her glass, softly realising that he'd nearly lost all trust in everyone for good a few weeks back. Had shut himself down almost entirely. The snow, and Jinn, and... and Ozpin.

_Meeting you... was the worst luck of my life_ ...

She bit her lip lightly, hoping he hadn't noticed her soft pause.

“Uncle Qrow...”

Her soft words brought his attention back to her, and she hesitated for a moment, settling on a soft smile.

“I'm glad you've made a good friend in Clover.”

The soft words settled over him gently, and he returned her smile warmly, reaching up to place a hand to her shoulder.

“Me too, kiddo,” he replied with a light squeeze. “But... if you're done worrying about me for the night, I suggest you head back to your friends. Go crash somewhere and catch a movie together.”

Silver eyes blinked up at him. “If you're sure...”

“Positive,” the huntsman replied, dropping his hand. “It's been a big day for everyone, and if I'm being honest, all I really want to do is turn in for the night.” At her still-dubious glance, he swiped an affectionate thumb across her cheek. “I'll be fine, really. I'm just tired and not as young as I used to be. This aura shattering thing is kicking my ass.”

Ruby leant in to give her uncle a tight hug, just holding him for a moment. He returned the embrace warmly, fingers stroking her hair. With a gentle pat, he withdrew from her, smiling down at his niece.

“Go on, get. Go eat some ice cream for me,” he told her, jabbing a thumb to the door. She laughed softly at him, already heading towards it.

“Don't worry, I'll eat two whole bowls to help you recover faster.” She offered him a final wave before slipping out the door, closing it gently behind her.

Qrow let the heavy sigh slip from him, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. In a heartbeat, that old familiar feeling welled up in the back of his mind. If he'd been paying a little more attention to his surroundings during the day, then he wouldn't have worried her so much. She wouldn't have needed to sacrifice her night just to make sure he wasn't relapsing, or worse. It wasn't something he liked doing at all, but gods above, if he didn't have a history of disappointing his family...

The groan slipped from him as he dropped his hand, red eyes turning to the window; even at this hour, air traffic still drifted past, he idly noted. He walked to it, sitting heavily on his bed with a huff and staring down at the city; leaning one shoulder against the window frame. Words drifted through his mind, mingling with the faint song of letting down those he cared about, the sensation visiting him once again.

He hated this feeling, and it left him frowning at the city, unseeing. It boiled in his stomach and he told himself in a sharp tone that he wasn't having any of it tonight. There would be no stewing, or wallowing, or any sort of melancholy, because he knew damn well what kind of corner it pushed him into.

With a soft growl, he stood again, fingers itching, feeling restless frustration tick through him. Fingers brushed across absent rings and he paced back to his forgotten water, snatching it up and finishing off the rest of it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he appreciated the drastic shift in his emotions. Relished it. It wasn't the usual ditch he'd find himself stumbling into, slipping further into the well of disappointment; it was the stark opposite. He felt anger at himself for even  _ considering _ old habits, and he placed his glass down, lest it shatter in his hand.

He  _ also _ knew that this kind of restless anger without a release was just as bad as old habits and he drummed his fingers on the counter.

Qrow lifted his injured arm, glancing over it; a cooling night flight was out of the question, and he frowned at that. Doing something relaxing and bringing himself down was  _ seriously  _ off the table; there was no way he'd be able to settle just yet. The weight of Harbinger still sat at the small of his back, an ever comforting presence, and knew there was only one thing he  _ could _ do to burn off this rush.

He only hoped the arena was free in the absolute middle of the night.

***

Clover reached for his coffee mug, taking a short sip before returning to the large display before him. Missions ticked over one by one from within the kingdom; some mundane, some a little more drastic and urgent. It wasn't anything he'd not seen before.

What satisfied him was the completion rate of some of them. In the space of a few hours since he'd dismissed all the teams, they'd completed an almost unprecedented amount of missions.

The added boost to their forces meant they could respond to Grimm attacks far quicker, and in more effective numbers. Even the supply runs to the tower had felt far easier with the support. The military could stop spreading itself so thin and concentrate more on the safety of the people; the place they were needed the most.

Another mission checked in as complete, and green eyes flicked up to Ruby's name. The girl was something else entirely, alright. Qrow had every reason to be proud of her, a thought that brought a faint smile to his lips.

The doors behind him slid open, and the team in question walked into the briefing room. He placed his mug down as they approached him, tilting his head to the board behind him.

“Impressive work out there, ladies,” he told them. “I haven't seen this kind of completion rate for a long time now.” All four of them practically beamed back at him, adrenaline still ticking through each of them. Ruby was all but bouncing on the spot in excitement.

“Thank you! It feels so great to be actual licensed huntresses now!”

Yang laughed softly at her sister, sharing the sentiment as she placed a hand on her head.

“What she _means_ , is we're super excited to finally be doing some real work now.”

“As huntresses!”

“Ruby, calm down already,” Weiss laughed at her, though even she couldn't keep the mirth from her voice.

“I think you all have good reason to be excited,” he told them. “You've earned it, and it's been a long road for all of you to get here. But don't get too complacent just yet; there's still a lot of work to go before we call this plan a success.” The brunet paused for a moment, realising something in the back of his mind. “Though I am kind of curious why you're all here so quickly.”

“Oh! Oh!!” Ruby thrust her arm skywards, as if she'd only just remembered why they were all here. “Yes! Um, I wanted to ask you something!” The girl waited half a beat for Clover to nod at her. “I know we already got a big cake from you guys and everything, but, well... we want to have our own celebration for getting our licenses; just the teams.”

Clover couldn't help but smile at her. They really were as close as a family, he thought. All of them were. It almost made him miss his days as a cadet.

“So, I was wondering... if you could give me the name of that place you took Uncle Qrow to?”

The brunet's mind scratched to a complete stop and his expression fell, leaving him blinking back at her in shock. How had she- Green eyes flicked between hers, thrown entirely off-kilter by the innocent question.

“Please? He told me about it last night and wouldn't stop going on and on about how it was the best meal he's had in years – and he's eaten in a _lot_ of different places around Remnant – and it sounds really, really good and I just want to treat all my friends.”

Despite the impressive rapid-fire string of words that shot out from the girl, Clover was still stuck a few sentences back, and he cleared his throat softly.

“Yes. Right. I'll... send it to your scroll,” he told her, scraping for his composure. There was a beat of time that left him wondering what _else_ Qrow had told his niece about last night. He pushed the conversation along a little, hoping to gather himself back together once more. “How is he today, anyway? Because I know I'm still feeling some of those blows from our match,” he told them with a faint laugh.

Yang and the others perked up a little at that, and violet eyes met silver briefly. “He hasn't checked in for any missions today?” she asked, now a little concerned.

“We... haven't seen him,” Ruby added.

Clover frowned at that. “He was absent from this morning's briefing...” he murmured. “Nor has the General mentioned him.” He reached for his scroll, tapping a few commands on it and turning to the large display behind him. An absolute mosaic of camera feeds were playing for them, each one showing a different part of the Academy. The girls were a little stunned, watching just how many there were, and green eyes narrowed faintly as he wound the footage back to last night.

He knew what time he arrived back at the Academy, so unless Qrow had something better to do, he might've only been a couple of hours behind-

“Oh! That's me!” Ruby exclaimed, pointing to a feed of herself jogging lightly down one of the hallways. Clover brought it up and skimmed over the details. “That's when I went to his room to see if he was there, but... he must've still been out.”

“How long were you waiting for him?”

She shrugged at his words. “I don't know... maybe half an hour or so? I kind of wound up playing a fighting game on my scroll and lost track of time.” Clover took her words at face value and wound the footage forward. Soon enough, the huntsman appeared, and the Ruby on-screen latched onto him in a fierce hug before they both stepped into his room.

“Ah, I think I was there for about ten minutes or so? I just wanted to check up on him,” she explained.

Soon enough, the girl left his room, but it was only a few minutes later that Qrow himself stepped out, heading down the hallway.

“Why does he look so angry?” Weiss asked softly.

Clover paused the feed, noticing the dark look that crossed his entire being. That was certainly  _ not _ how he left him last night.

“What's gotten into you...” Clover murmured. He brought the entire glut of camera feeds up once more, and with a few simple commands, a number of them faded away as he tracked only Qrow's aura through the system. The path he walked took him straight to the heart of the Academy, right where the training arena was. Which was firmly where his aura remained.

Clover felt his brows knit as he kept winding the footage forward, bringing them right up until dawn. It was only then that a very tired looking Qrow reappeared, making his way back to his room and vanishing into it once more. Exactly where he stayed until the feed ran out of footage to replay.

“He's... in his room?” Yang tilted her head a little.

“Well, at least that explains why no one's seen him today,” he told them, closing the entire program. “If I went to the arena to blow off some steam for _that_ long, I'd probably want to sleep for a week too. Especially after having my aura shattered.”

He turned back to them, tucking his scroll away into his pocket with a smile. “Alright, let's go see if he's still breathing in there.”

Ruby sighed with relief, turning to follow the operative. At the very least, she was just incredibly glad she didn't have to see her uncle falling into old habits again, like she feared. Yang noticed that her thoughts had gone to exactly the same place, and she placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly as they set off.

It was funny, Ruby thought as they walked. They came to Clover with the express intent of being subtle about everything, but the man had flipped their expectations entirely the moment he showed palpable concern over her uncle. He probably also broke about a hundred military protocols when it came to searching for him, too.

The frown was light on her brow as she mulled it over. Clover really  _ was _ a good friend to her uncle, and it was... refreshing to see someone care about him so deeply. She knew it had been a lifetime since Qrow had someone like that in his life. She brought her gaze to the operative as he walked slightly ahead of them.

Was there really something there, like the others thought? Or was it just genuine concern for a friend, like she felt for all her friends?

“Hey.”

The whisper from her side brought her eyes up to Yang.

“Don't think about it so much,” she told her quietly. “We'll know sooner or later.”

Ruby held her gaze for a moment before nodding softly, glancing briefly at Clover.

No point overthinking it, her mind whispered.

It took a few winding turns and a few more lengthy hallways, but they soon reached the dorms. Clover couldn't keep the light pinch out of his brow as they stopped at Qrow's door. If he had any hesitation whatsoever, it was meticulously buried as he reached up and knocked loudly.

There was a beat of time and the man bit back the sigh. He was a little torn over the fact he was waking up the man after what seemed to be a three hour nap – especially after what seemed like nearly a full day awake – but he was just as concerned as the team behind him. Hell, the concern was downright  _ radiating _ from his two nieces.

He knocked again, and there was a faint scuffle of movement from inside. Alright, so at least he was alive, his mind whispered.

The door slid open, presenting them with one very groggy, grumpy looking shirtless huntsman, hair mussed up far more than usual and sticking up at odd angles. One hand was pressed to his face as he all but attempted to scrub the sleep from his being, leaning his other arm against the door.

“...better be a good reason f'this...” he mumbled into his hand.

Clover blinked a little at what faced him, feeling a little frozen in place and not entirely knowing where to look. He was alive and very annoyed. Alright. Green eyes flicked to the man's chest before turning away entirely, hands folding neatly at the small of his back. He cleared his throat in attention, causing that hand to slide away from red eyes.

Qrow stared back at the operative in sleep-addled confusion before glancing past him to his nieces and the rest of their team. Yang gave him a faint wave.

“Hi... Uncle Qrow?” Ruby offered softly.

The huntsman stared back at them before the weary groan fell from him.

“What'd you break?” he deadpanned.

“Nothing! No, we just... we were all worried when you didn't check in this morning,” Yang told him, now starting to feel guilty as hell.

“Are you okay? You're not getting sick are you?” Ruby pressed, concerned. Qrow straightened a little, letting his hand slide from the door frame as he folded his arms across his chest. He resisted the urge to sigh again.

“No, m'fine. Just... had a bit of a late night,” he told them, stifling a heady yawn that made his jaw pop lightly. “Only got back in a little while ago.”

“Oh... well... as long as you're okay,” Ruby continued. “Um, sorry for waking you up, Uncle Qrow.” The girls exchanged a guilty glance behind Ruby's back and Yang gave her a gentle prod to the shoulder. She took the hint and nodded at her sister. “We'll let you get some rest, alright? Feel better soon, okay!”

The team all but scurried away, feeling like a heel for worrying so needlessly, and leaving Clover kind of stranded in place. He still didn't meet those red eyes as they followed the girls down the hall.

“I... want to apologise,” he began, staring at the floor. “Everything seemed fine last night, but when they came to me this morning-”

Qrow cut him off by raising a hand from where they sat folded across his chest. “Don't worry about it. You soon learn to take Ruby's mother-henning in stride,” came the murmur. Clover still felt uneasy at the almost forced apology from the man.

“You looked angry.”

The simple phrase got Qrow's attention, and he could now see what the inner turmoil was. Red eyes lowered, his jaw setting as he realised just what it was Clover was inferring. At least he had an idea how they all found him now.

He unfolded his arms, rapping the back of his hand to Clover's chest. “Come on. I learnt my lesson  _ last  _ time we had a conversation in the hallway,” he told him, stepping back into his room. The operative was stuck for a moment before he headed in after him, the door sliding shut.

Qrow made his way languidly to the kitchenette, fingers brushing through messy hair, bare feet padding over cold tile as he jabbed the coffee machine awake. He scratched idly at his stomach as he pulled out two mugs from the cupboard.

“Didn't get a chance to properly thank you for dinner last night,” he said idly, setting them down. Clover leant up against one side of the counter.

“There's nothing to thank me for,” came the easy reply. “I thought I was just sharing a meal with a good friend.”

Qrow smiled to himself as he went about making the two of them some coffee. A good friend. Yeah, he'd certainly count Clover as one of those, that's for sure. What still surprised him was how  _ fast _ he felt confident enough to call him that. The guy was just so easy to get along with; practically the utter opposite of himself.

He knew it was something he'd forever be working on, but it was nice to know there was someone who wasn't blood related that actually gave a damn about him. With two steaming coffee mugs in hand, he turned to the other man, sliding one over to him as he rested a hip against the edge of the counter, bringing his own towards his lips.

“Went on a wild limb: milk and no sugar?” he asked, taking a sip of his own.

Clover gave him an amused smile, bringing his mug up in brief salute. “Lucky guess,” he replied, taking a sip. It was damn good, too. Particularly so, since he left his last one down in the briefing room. Fingers curled about his mug, eyes on the surface of the liquid. “Really though... are you alright?”

Red eyes glanced over him briefly before lowering to his mug. “...I am. I just...” he trailed off, brows pinching lightly. “I had some anger to work off last night, as you probably saw. Anger at myself.”

The operative remained silent as he let the other man sort out his thoughts. Qrow lightly thumbed the Atlas Military decal on his mug.

“After you left, I realised I'd missed a whole mess of stuff from Ruby, trying to get in touch with me,” he began softly, each word carefully chosen. “I eventually found her, and reassured her I was okay; just... taking the day off. We spent a bit of time together, but after she left... that old feeling came back.”

He gave a long exhale, taking a sip from his coffee. “I'd disappointed her again. Not in... well... the usual way, but the shame was still there.” He raised his head a little with a sudden inhale, and the darkness from his expression seemed to fade as brows rose a touch. “ _ But _ , I told myself that I was done sliding into old habits. Been done with that for a while now. Got angry at myself for even thinking that way. And, well, you probably saw what you saw and the rest is history.”

Qrow punctuated his spill of words by all but slamming back his coffee, downing half of it in one hit.

The brunet met his words with a gentle silence, letting them sink into him before he lifted his gaze to the huntsman.

“Do you feel better for it?”

Gentle and soft, not a hint of judgement or coercion, just like he promised.

Red eyes met Clover's briefly, ducking away as he actually mulled it over. He brought his other hand to his mug, feeling the searing warmth slip into fingers.

“...yeah, I do,” he replied simply. “Rather than what I found myself in before, this was... well, it... felt like a nice productive change...” he murmured, sounding vaguely surprised. “Felt good to burn off the emotion in another way, rather than... letting it drown me...”

“Then that's all that matters.”

The quiet reply had him glancing back at Clover, who watched him with that same measure of warmth he always openly offered him. The man had allowed the faint smile to cross his expression, green eyes staring back at him with what seemed like downright pride. Qrow couldn't help but duck his gaze away, feeling a little self-conscious at the level of admiration the man was awarding him.

“Ah... yeah. It's... something I'm working on,” he murmured. “Been working on it for a while, but... guess I just needed the right kind of push.”

The quiet admission couldn't help but bring the warmth to his neck, and all at once, he wanted to proudly puff out his chest at finally voicing it, and for the entire floor to swallow him whole. It was a coin flip as to what he wanted to happen first, and still, Clover kept the same warm smile on his face.

“I'm glad...” he breathed. “Whatever changes you're making in your life... it's not supposed to be a rapid process. You have to give yourself time to adjust. Just like being a huntsman; your muscles learn at different rates. Your mind recalls experiences a little differently each time. But you never stop learning.”

There was a beat of time.

“And I'm grateful I could help you.”

Qrow felt the heat spread, and he was sure his ears were burning. He still had no measure for how to react when this kind of gentle positivity about his life was heaped upon him, and he swallowed through a tight throat.

Damn this guy and his ability to slip under his skin as easy as breathing.


	8. Scars And Silences

Qrow brought his coffee mug to his lips, taking another short draught from it to distract him from the way heat sat upon his skin. Clover, on the other hand, simply felt the soft fondness for the huntsman only grow, and he dropped his gaze a little to his state of undress.

“I... have a question, if it's not too forward.”

Red eyes flicked back to him, gesturing lightly with his mug. Not as if he hadn't been forward this entire conversation, it said to him.

Clover parted his lips to reply, hesitating a little as his gaze flicked back up, then settled on his stomach once more.

“That scar. How'd it happen?”

Qrow's brows went up lightly as he glanced down, following the man's gaze. The angry red slash still sat along his abdomen, just under his rib cage. A reminder of things that went wrong. He resisted the urge to cover it with a hand now that it had been pointed out; he'd forgotten all about it when he answered the door without his shirt.

“I ah, got careless during a fight. Either that or my semblance kicked in. Either way, it was a reminder that Tyrian packs one hell of a punch,” he explained simply. Clover's ears perked at that, and he sobered in a heartbeat, standing up straighter.

“Tyrian Callows?” he asked sharply. Red eyes ducked up to green, noting the light urgency in that tone.

“Yeah. Why?”

Clover visibly deflated a little as he stared back at the huntsman with a quiet exhale. Just who  _ hadn't _ Qrow taken on in his life? And lived to talk about it, more to the point.

“He's been on Atlas' most wanted list for some years now,” he told him almost sharply. “A string of murders being his highest crime, all the way down to kidnapping and assault. Not to mention some of his activities in Vale.” His brow pinched as he stared back at Qrow. “What did you do to wind up getting _his_ attention?”

The huntsman gave a brief shrug, taking another sip of his coffee. “The kids were on their way to Mistral to retrieve the Relic there. I was watching their backs along the way, when Tyrian jumped them. Gave them all a hell of a scare, too.” He placed his mug to the counter, fingers curling about the edge. There was no way he could forget any of the details that swam through his mind as anger ticked through him. “I... held him off as best I could. He nearly got Ruby – a couple of times – but... in the end I managed to help drive him off.”

The brunet knew there was more to it than that.

“He's not the kind of person you can just 'drive off,'” he stated simply. “He's given us the body count to prove that.”

Qrow frowned deeply, caught in the memory of the fight. “When you cut off a limb, he sure scurries away like a cockroach in the sun.”

Clover's brows went up at that. “That's a... pretty big statement, Qrow.”

At that, the huntsman pulled himself from the anger that simmered just below the surface. He sorely wanted to finish what had been started, but he was also pretty sure Tyrian shared the same sentiment with him. He certainly wouldn't be holding back a second time. Nor would the same trick work twice.

He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck lightly with a sigh.

“He managed to get me with his stinger, so Ruby made sure he could never use it again,” he explained. “Where he wound up after that is anyone's guess, though given who he's working for, I'm guessing it's only a matter of time before he crawls out of hiding again.”

He let the words sit between them, and when there came no response from the brunet, Qrow glanced up at him, noticing green eyes were still firmly on that angry red scar. The brunet was thinking deeply about something, and the huntsman reached for his coffee once more, holding it in both hands.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The statement brought Clover back to him, and the man met red eyes once more. “Just wondering... how far from Mistral were you all? Because it looks like it healed poorly.”

Qrow glanced away, mentally scratching for an answer. “We all fought Tyrian in Oniyuri, and travelled further east until sundown,” he murmured. “After that... I wasn't all that lucid enough to remember. The poison did a real number on me, or so I'm told, because the next thing I know for certain, I'm waking up in Mistral.” Fingers tightened about his mug, caught in the hazy memory. “I was told I nearly didn't make it... a few times along the way...”

Green eyes watched him carefully for a moment. He resisted the urge to sigh at the huntsman, taking a brief sip of his coffee and placing it to the side. Still... coming out alive after a scrape with Tyrian was nothing to sneeze at; it was no wonder at all why Qrow bested him in the arena.

“Do you mind?” he asked, gesturing lightly to the huntsman. Red eyes glanced at him briefly before flicking down to that hand. It took a heartbeat for Qrow's mind to catch up to what it was that Clover wanted, and he placed his mug to the side, his hands resting on the counter behind him.

“Sure, knock yourself out,” he murmured. “Though I thought you were gonna be a shrink, not a doctor.” A soft breath of a laugh met his ears as Clover stepped forward.

“Still plenty of time to go back to med school,” he replied, extending a hand out to the scar.

It wasn't deep, but he knew from reports he'd read that it never needed to be. Slain victims had been found with mere grazes from that stinger. It was still an angry shade of red, and he placed fingers to it, feeling the smoothness of skin regrown.

Red eyes watched that hand where it pressed lightly to his skin. The faint contact almost made him want to jump; Clover's fingers were still hot from where he held his mug. He was gentle as he inspected the site, and military roughened fingers slipped across the dead line of nerves. It surprised him a little.

“Huh... still numb...” Qrow breathed absently.

The brunet gave a soft noise of thought. “Not surprising... that kind of poison on nerve endings... There's a good chance it might not fully heal...”

Fingers reached the end of the scar, falling still against the side of Qrow's ribs, and Clover found that he'd utterly stopped. He found his mind had suddenly stuttered to a standstill on little else but the warmth of skin under his fingers and the scant distance between them. He didn't dare lift his eyes from that scar, not wanting to see what awaited him.

Qrow too, felt the quiet shift in the silence between them. He wanted to swallow through a dry throat but he couldn't quite remember how it worked. And the fingers at his side were warm.

So warm...

It was so strange, his mind whispered. Normally he would push and shun; deny anyone any sort of proximity to him. He had lived his entire life keeping people away; had almost made it his life's mission, in fact. Hell, he'd even  _ told the guy _ that.

Yet Clover was single-handedly destroying it all. And Qrow was letting him.

It felt... good.

The huntsman reached up with one hand, fingers resting against Clover's chest; a simple acquiesce to the man's stillness at his side. His own chest felt tight, something aching deep within, and it took him a moment to realise what it was. To recognise it. He'd felt this before, and he blinked a few times, unable to process the full shock of how deep it actually ran in his veins.

The fingers at his side settled further against the warm skin of his hip, holding gently. With simple permission given, green eyes lifted to meet Qrow's, and for one of the few times in his life, he had absolutely no idea what to do. It was a blessed kind of blank. Red eyes flicked between his, and he could see he wasn't the only one unsure of how to proceed.

Both felt the fragile glass around them, not wanting to push too hard. Not wanting to shatter this delicate balance.

There had always been a quiet comfort between them; it was something Qrow had quickly grown to enjoy. To relish, even. He knew trust couldn't be formed in a day, but it already felt like they'd been sharing it for a lifetime.

His heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears as fingers brushed upwards from Clover's uniform, finding the bare hollow of skin at the base of his throat. His hand pressed flat to warm skin as he continued up the side of the man's neck, coming to rest gently against the curve of his cheek.

Clover couldn't help the need to lean into that soft touch, closing his eyes and basking in its warmth. The sight of him pursuing that simple contact was enough to pull at Qrow's chest. Fingers reached up, gently covering his hand. Then Clover was shifting, curling fingers about that hand and turning his head slightly, lips finding a warm palm in a featherlight kiss.

All breath left Qrow in a silent exhale.

He raised the hammer between them and swung at the glass.

Qrow gave a gentle pull and Clover willingly met those lips. Warm and soft, it was an unhurried movement as they simply indulged in the reeling motion of glass shards shattering at their feet. Qrow let fingers drift to the curve of the man's neck, feeling the heat flare beneath. Clover's own fingers pulled where they sat at warm skin, kneading lightly, his now freed hand returning the simple hold on Qrow's jaw.

It was a heady spill of ambrosia and neither of them knew how to come up for air. Both of them drank deep from the heat the other provided as the world around them ceased to exist for a short time. All meaning about them was gone, and there was only the other in front of them.

The simple need gave them all the reason they could ask for.

Foreheads pressed against one another, giving needed purchase when lips parted a hairs breadth from the other. Clover, still with his eyes closed, breath shallow like a dying man, refused to let go of the other.

Qrow watched him through dark eyes, swallowing through a tight throat, feeling like he never wanted to breathe again. He'd heard hindsight was a beautiful thing, and in stark, cold clarity, he found new bliss in every single touch, and brush, and word, and steadying hold that had ever passed between them.

Clover had been speaking his warmth to him for so long.

He'd been such a  _ fool _ .

Red eyes closed tightly, and the shudder of a breath spilled from him. He pulled him in tightly once more, lips seeking the other's in a crushing embrace and needing, just  _ needing _ . Clover rode the storm with him, as he always had, letting everything that was Qrow pull him under the waves, leaving him clutching at him, clinging tightly to him like a man adrift.

A sharp tone sounded in their ears and both jerked back from the other like they'd been burned. Fingers still clutched and their breath was still ragged, they blinked, disoriented as the tone continued. Clover snapped back into the world as he fumbled blearily for his scroll, wanting nothing more than to pitch the gods-forsaken device across the damn room.

He untangled from the heady warmth that was Qrow, staring down at the device. There was no way he wanted to talk to anyone now; he didn't trust his voice in the slightest. The huntsman seemed to share the unspoken sentiment, but it didn't stop him from clearing his throat softly, reaching up to cover his mouth, red eyes tearing away from the brunet.

His mind was still caught, reeling in the flow of heat that had gone straight to his brain and shut down everything else. He'd just let Clover- No, he let  _ himself _ \- Colour stayed flushed to his cheeks at the shaky revelation as the brunet cleared his own throat.

“Sir, good morning.”

Red eyes widened, brows pinching sharply, as they turned back to the operative, lowering his hand.

“No, just... a quick jog. Helps to wake up the senses.”

The words spoken in a simple rush as green eyes met Qrow's. The huntsman was going to  _ murder _ Ironwood when he saw him next, the fate of Atlas be damned. Clover caught the intention in that look and he turned away sharply, bodily facing away from the man as the conversation continued in clipped military tones.

Qrow still felt the blood rushing through his ears, the static in his mind, the pounding of his heart in his ribs. It threatened to drag him to the floor in a heap before he moved. Pushed away from the counter and headed to the small bathroom. Shaky fingers found the vanity, clutching at cold porcelain.

His stomach felt sturdy, but the man looking back at him in the mirror felt sick with realisation.

Everything in his mind stilled as it zeroed in on a single fact; the quiet panic in his thoughts coming with that warm smile that had graced his life so thoroughly.

It felt like he'd fallen for the bastard.  _ Hard _ .

His breath hitched at the simple reason, feeling every little word and conversation and touch and murmur falling into place. Everything between them since they'd arrived in Atlas. Red eyes clenched shut, the twisting ache in his chest telling him what he already knew and fingers squeezed tight. He had to bring himself back down again. He knew he did.

He knew it, and yet every time he thought of the damn realisation, it brought with it a new bubble of panic.

The old familiar feeling of immediately pushing away. Of rejecting that closeness.

He forced the breath out of him between clenched teeth, inhaling slowly in a steadying breath before repeating the same movement once more. He had to give himself time to adjust, just like he'd been told. Even if the next step of opening up to someone  _ like this _ somewhat terrifie- No,  _ no _ . Red eyes snapped open to glare back at himself in the mirror.

It wasn't so bad.

Was it?

The tiny thought helped derail his mind a little, and he stared back at himself in the mirror. This almost shaky, panicked mess of a man he'd become. When a mere moment ago, he'd been thoroughly intent on devouring everything Clover offered him.

He drew his bottom lip between teeth.

The man had been nothing but warm and patient with him. Letting him set the pace for... gods,  _ everything _ between them. He drew in another steadying breath, feeling the squirming begin to settle into his stomach.

He reached up, scrubbing a hand over his face, giving some finality to the thoughts that buzzed around in his head. Fingers slowed, settling across his lips in a light brush. He'd  _ let _ himself... do that.

And it felt good.

It felt  _ incredible _ .

In a heady realisation, it left him wanting more in a way he hadn't felt for years. A way that he long since felt had died. Yet here it was, creeping back into tired bones and opening his eyes to what had always been there.

The twist in his stomach did a triple somersault with a perfect landing. He swallowed hard, dropping his hand and standing up straight once more. This... this was it then. If he could overcome one of the biggest obstacles in his life to date, then he could certainly do this.

One step at a time.

Clover appeared in the door, clutching the frame as he stared back at the huntsman. His scroll looked about ready to snap in two with how hard he was squeezing it.

“Qrow, are you- I'm sorry, I-”

The poor man looked stricken as he fumbled through his words and Qrow could only sigh, reaching up to run fingers through his hair, glancing away from those eyes. The sight of him made his stomach vault in that unexpected way again.

“It's... yeah. I'm alright, don't... don't apologise,” he told him softly. Clover shoved his scroll back into his pocket, fingers reaching up to hold the huntsman's arm gently.

“I didn't mean to-” he cut himself off, letting out the breath of tension that coiled deep within him. “No, I mean... I _did_... and I'm sorry if it was too fast.” Qrow couldn't stop the huff of a laugh that escaped him, catching the brunet off-guard.

“Last I checked, we were both capable and functioning adults,” he told him, easy smile on his face. “And I wasn't saying no.”

There was a beat of time before Clover visibly deflated with a sigh; the tension flooding from his form. The fingers at Qrow's arm relaxed and he drew back to run a hand down his face, relief filling him entirely.

“I'm sorry, I still feel like I took advantage of... of a moment.”

“You didn't,” Qrow replied immediately. He reached up, fingers hesitating only a moment before resting on the curve of the man's cheek. “Don't make me come over there and talk you down from this; that's your job.”

The laugh that spilled from the brunet was bright and rich, and he smiled almost wearily back at Qrow.

“Thank you...” he breathed looking the veritable picture of concern. “I was so worried I'd-”

“ _Clover_.”

The clipped tone of his name brought him up short, and Qrow held his gaze for a moment longer before sighing, his gaze softening.

“I know... I've got enough issues to fill a library. And I know that... it's going to take a lot of time... a _hell_ of a lot of time... to try and sort through everything.” His thumb stroked his cheek gently. “But this? We only got this far because I trust you. And that's... not something I do.” His lips pressed into a thin line, feeling his composure weaken a little as he ducked his eyes away.

“You've been honest with me. Brutally honest, if we're counting. It's... been a refreshing change from everyone else in my life.”

He raised his free hand to the pin on Clover's uniform, brushing fingers across its surface. “You're also the only person who's made me realise I'm more than... just this...” Both his hands slid free from the man with a quiet exhale, letting the simple words sink under his skin. In a quick motion, he reached up and flicked the brunet's forehead. “So stop apologising.”

Clover swatted at him with a short laugh. “Alright, alright. Point taken,” he told him, warm affection flooding him in place of that shaky relief. Qrow glanced towards where the man had tucked away his scroll.

“So what'd James want?” he asked softly.

The brunet felt the mild shame burning in his chest as he cleared his throat softly. “I ah... may have broken a couple of security and privacy protocols when it came to finding you.” He let out the long sigh that sat on his tongue. “ _ But _ when I explained to him that you hadn't been seen in half a day – by anyone – that... seemed to help a little.”

Qrow raised a brow. “A little?”

“I'm on Amity escort and Mantle patrol for the next week, starting two hours from now.”

A sympathetic wince met his words. That did  _ not _ sound like a fun combination. Of course, if he hadn't gone off and worried everyone like that, then there wouldn't  _ be _ any of the ramifications facing Clover right now. He reached up and ran fingers through his hair lightly.

“Well that sucks,” he stated bluntly. “Least I know how to spend my mission time though.”

“You don't have to do that. Not when you haven't slept all that well, and you're still recovering,” Clover replied, ducking green eyes to the cast about his arm.

“Hey, I kicked your ass soundly after a day of wearing this, thanks.”

Clover laughed softly at him, knowing his point was well proven.

“Besides, I've missed falling asleep in the back of a truck,” Qrow added.

“I don't think that's how escort missions are supposed to go.”

“Says the man who actually _has_ a sleeping schedule.”

The brunet raised a brow. “Does being in the military actually count?” Qrow smirked at him.

“You could just use some of that honesty and tell me you want to win an argument against me.”

Clover's expression softened as the warm smile covered his lips. “When it's the most enjoyable, and not to mention only, social interaction I get outside of the military? Why would I ever want to stop?” The words seemed to bring the huntsman to a halt, and he glanced away with a soft smile. The brunet reached up, tucking fingers under his chin and bringing their eyes together once more.

“There,” he breathed. A brief wink. “I win.”

“Yeah... well I'm a sore loser...”

It was a soft murmur of words, lost between them when lips sought each other once more. Both were unsure who the quiet sound slipped from, but it brought Qrow's heart to his throat. He reached for Clover's belt, pulling him forward so he could snake an arm around the man's waist.

The brunet let his hand slip across Qrow's jaw, dragging fingers through dark hair. Qrow groaned softly at the sensation, fingers curling into fabric and wanting more of him. There was only a short window of opportunity for the two of them, which was the cruellest luck of all.

Clover drew back slightly, dragging that heat back with him, and Qrow resisted the urge to all but drag him right back. Green eyes closed softly as the simple nuzzle found his nose, Qrow returning the movement with a quiet murmur. Fingers slipped from his hair to travel down his arm, finding his hand and lacing them together gently.

“Come on,” he breathed, guiding him gently from the bathroom. He walked them to Qrow's bed, the covers still mussed from his sudden awakening, and the huntsman froze up slightly, red eyes blinking back at the man.

“Uh, look, about that moving too fast thing-”

“No. Uh, no no, we're not-” Clover cut himself off, immediately realising the mistake in his actions. He gave a quiet sigh, smiling back at him. “I just... wanted to help you get back to sleep. I mean, I _did_ wake you up earlier.”

The colour brushed across Qrow's cheeks at the explanation. Well of course it was that and not...  _ that _ . Gods above, it was like he was a teenager again and not a capable and functioning adult, like he claimed to be. He cleared his throat softly before moving to sit on the edge of his bed. As Clover stepped forward, the huntsman let go of fingers, settling onto his side as he rolled over and faced the window.

There was a soft dip in the mattress behind him as Clover's weight joined him. A moment later, warm fabric settled in behind him, an arm slipping about his waist to rest fingers gently over his sternum. Qrow closed his eyes as he felt his body relax into the simple feeling of the brunet spooning him.

All at once he felt entirely too comfortable as warmth bled about him. The tip of a nose found the hair at the nape of his neck, brushing lightly before lips pressed to the same spot. Qrow almost couldn't stop the shiver at the delicate contact, and eyelids fluttered closed.

“Mm... thought you were tryin' to help me sleep...” he murmured, letting his arm follow the curve of Clover's about his waist.

He felt the smirk on his neck.

“Didn't say when I'd _start_ trying...”

The warmth spread from his neck and he turned his face a little more into his pillow, feeling almost a little self-conscious of the colour that brushed his cheeks. It wasn't even a week ago... hell, a  _ day  _ ago, that he was still completely under the mindset that his ability to push people away was stronger than his semblance. That it was all he would ever do,  _ because _ of his semblance.

Then he goes and meets someone who cancels out his life's logic entirely.

He drew his bottom lip between teeth, lingering over the different taste upon them. As if Clover could feel the way his heart beat within his chest, fingers curled lightly, brushing across warm skin. Red eyes slivered open to catch sight of the morning blossoming between the blinds, something bright and searing and full of far too much activity for either of them at the moment.

Right here, inside, tucked into the space between them, was all that mattered. The soft sound slipped from his throat as he closed his eyes once more, feeling utterly weary and enjoying every second of it. He knew sleep would come to him, but for all the exhaustion that threatened to drag him under, he wanted to fight it off as long as he could.

He just wanted to feel this warmth surrounding him.

He wanted nothing more than this.

He just... wanted Clover.

***

Heels clicked a sharp rhythm upon the tile, echoing far into the vaulted ceilings. It had become her herald, and she was damned if she was ever going to trade it in for anything else. Winter knew that her presence commanded respect, and the sound of her approaching footsteps was the only warning she would ever give.

She turned the corner sharply, the doors of the briefing room sliding open before her. Blue eyes narrowed faintly at the sight of the crowd of personnel before her, and more importantly, the sight of Clover as he sat in the back row, arms folded across his chest. For such a usually friendly operative, he was paying no mind to the clutter of activity about him. Perhaps his punishment was truly hitting the mark after all.

His little stunt still puzzled her, but she placed the thought aside as she strode to the front of the room. Chatter ceased in a wave as she passed, everyone returning to their places. They all stood as one, snapping her a sharp salute. She placed her effects upon the lectern, returned the salute, and they settled into their chairs.

“This evening will consist of covering the eastern and southern perimeter for incursions. Both from the Grimm and the general populace,” she began, the map of Mantle appearing behind her, highlighting various areas as she spoke. “Atlas tethers one through six already have teams in place, so changeover is to occur on tethers seven through nine only. Your teams are as follows.”

Winter clicked the image of the map away, showing who was paired with who. Clover felt his brow pinch when he saw his name was the only one without a partner.  _ And  _ on tether patrol. Oh boy, he was really in her bad books if he didn't even warrant backup for  _ that _ . Perhaps it was a good thing after all when Qrow mentioned he'd tag along.

Not that they ever expected trouble on a mere tether patrol. His semblance could certainly see to that, regardless of how mundane it always felt.

There was always  _ some _ drunken idiot out there who decided the best thing for Mantle was to free itself from the literal shackles of Atlas.

“Are there any questions?”

Her sharp words drew a resounding silence, and she cast a glance to the watch on her wrist.

“Very well. Be aboard your designated transports within fifteen minutes. Dismissed.”

Activity welled up around her as the room of people stood and filed out in a clash of scraping chairs, idle chatter and booted footfalls that echoed within the relatively small room. As the noise level subsided and the last of the personnel left the room, she found that Clover had not moved from his place, still seated with his arms lightly folded across his chest.

“I expect you to be ready within the same timeframe as the others, Clover. Don't count on any special treatment due to your usual position,” she told him simply. He stood, as if coming out of the daydream he had wandered into.

“Not at all, ma'am. In fact, I wanted to thank you.”

She paused, regarding him carefully at those words. “Oh? And why is that?”

“I'm trusted enough to handle this mission on my own. That's high praise, ma'am.”

Winter gave a terse sigh and turned her gaze away, frustration running light across her features as she walked towards him. The brunet wasn't at all expecting the reaction and he blinked lightly at her when those blue eyes met his once more.

“You can cut the bullshit and tell me what's really on your mind.”

Had it been anyone else, he would have laughed at the blunt response. With Winter, it threw him a little, and he was stuck for a moment. He cleared his throat as she stopped before him, standing a little straighter, as if expecting a blow.

“I... took another look at your advice, ma'am,” he began simply. “It was wrong of me to ignore it, and I apologise for the offence.”

It was her turn to be surprised, and she showed it by raising her brows slightly, staring back at him.

“I took the General's friendship with Qrow as an example as to how I should act about him, without thinking primarily of the mission,” Clover continued. “I... initially felt it was better to gain the trust of him, as someone he could relate to, rather than anyone else within the teams.”

It wasn't an...  _ outright _ lie, sure.

And he sure as hell wasn't about to tell Winter just  _ how _ he got that trust.

“I didn't... think of the potential ramifications of our match, and for that, I apologise,” he added, knowing he might already be pushing his luck.

Her eyes flicked between his, not at all expecting his words. She settled on a faint smile as she folded her arms before her.

“Well then, I thank you for your honesty. And your apology,” she told him simply. “If we're being frank, I also owe you a measure of apology. My opinion of Qrow comes from a rather... personal place. Something that should never cloud a professional judgement.”

She tilted her head slightly. “He's... also improved himself, since the last time we met, and I let my past responses get the better of me. So believe me when I say that my warning came from... a different memory of him.”

Clover was almost blown away by what he was hearing. For one thing, Winter was speaking quite bluntly with him about Qrow, but she was also speaking  _ very _ bluntly with him about her feelings. She could have knocked him down with a feather with how much the realisation brought his mind to a screeching halt.

He gave her a simple nod. “Thank you... ma'am. I... appreciate it.”

Her smile broadened faintly as she leant in a little. “You have thirteen minutes.” Clover took the words as an end to their conversation, and he brought up his hand in a quick salute, turning sharply and heading for the door.

“Oh, and Clover.”

He paused in the doorway, turning back to her.

“You're right. I do trust you,” she told him with an almost wry smile. “Even if it _is_ just a mundane tether patrol.”

The brunet gave her a broad smile as he exited the room, leaving her standing there. She turned away from the place where he once was, heading back to the front of the room with a sigh. Collecting her scroll and files together once more, her eyes narrowed faintly.

“I hope you know what you're getting yourself into...” the breath slipped from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got there folks :D <3


	9. Muffins And Meanings

He hadn't experienced this kind of relentless agony since his days as a cadet. Torture unlike anything else bored it's way under his skin and into his skull. His fingers almost ached at the chance to lash out, to attack, to do  _ something _ .

The boredom was going to kill him otherwise.

Clover sighed wearily as he stood atop a nearby building, the immense tether clamp in full view. He'd managed to alleviate some of the monotony for the first couple of hours by regularly switching posts; changing his perspective a little helped refresh his senses. Star gazing only got him so far when he already knew all the constellations by heart. He resisted the urge to start playing solitaire on his scroll, even if that urge was growing by the minute.

He'd struck up the occasional conversation with some of the citizens here and there, who – luckily – weren't drunk enough to want to try anything to the tether. He actually had a downright pleasant interaction with one old lady with a spotted tail, and they laughed for a while over shared stories. She ended the conversation by promising to bring him something to eat later on, if he was still around.

It still didn't help the crushing boredom that returned in full force after she left. More than once, his fingers came to rest on the hilt of Kingfisher, about to start practising some trick shots, when his mind stopped him. The reel was still missing, laying disassembled somewhere on Pietro's workbench, and waiting for repairs to be finished. Luckily the dear man had at least returned a facsimile of the telescopic rod to him, and it functioned well enough.

It still felt like he was missing a big chunk of his weapon.

With a quiet grumble, he folded his arms across his chest, glancing up at the city above him. Only an hour or so to go and still no sign-

The harsh cry from a raven alerted his senses, and he whipped his gaze around to find the jet-black bird sitting atop a water tower, it's right wing drooping a little. It cocked it's crested head at him a little, and Clover stared back at it for a moment, before realisation sunk in. He turned away with a soft snort of a laugh.

“Please don't tell me you flew down here,” he told it. When he glanced back up, Qrow sat before him, lazily dangling his legs over the edge of the water tower.

“Now why would I do something as reckless as that? I want this thing off already,” he groused. “Besides, if I behave myself, it comes off early.”

“Who went and told you that?”

“Eh, I promised Ruby I'd go and see the doc after our match. Though truth be told, I think he only told me what I wanted to hear. Mostly because he saw me beat you, and he had good money on me to win.”

Clover laughed softly. “There was a  _ betting pool? _ ”

“Just be thankful nobody was selling tickets,” Qrow added with a smirk. He pushed himself off the tower, landing in an easy crouch before straightening and walking lazily towards the man; smug smile firmly in place. “Oh, and for the record... the odds were in my favour. Heavily.”

“Why do I find that a little hard to believe?”

Qrow pressed a hand to his chest in mock offence. “I would never lie to you about such a thing.” Clover made a noise of deep thought and narrowed his eyes affectionately at the huntsman.

“Something tells me _that's_ a lie.” The quiet laugh met his words and the huntsman placed his hands to his hips, turning away to glance over at the impressive tether base. He gave a low whistle as he ran red eyes over the structure; unless there was a serious attempt made on the thing, there was little chance it was ever giving way.

“First time I've seen one of these things up close,” he commented. “Atlas sure doesn't do things by halves.” His eyes followed the immense cable all the way to the island's base. Clover walked up alongside him, staring up at the same area, hands on his hips in a mirror fashion to the huntsman.

“It's impressive alright,” he conceded softly. “But with the way things are... well, that's why they need to be guarded around the clock.” He turned his gaze back to Qrow. “How are you feeling after your sleep-in?”

Qrow glanced back at him, ducking his eyes away after a brief moment. “Better. A... lot better. Guess my sleeping schedule was a little messed up after... well... early this morning, I suppose,” he told him. “Best sleep I've had for a while, actually.”

Clover's smile warmed as he watched him. “I'm glad,” he replied softly. “Though I have to say... you're a heavy sleeper once you get there. You didn't even bat an eyelid when I left.”

The huntsman didn't meet that keen gaze as he cleared his throat softly, heat gathering at his collar.

“Ah... not something that happens regularly, let me tell you,” he told him as fingers reached up to rub the back of his neck. “Thanks to my upbringing, I'm usually a pretty light sleeper. But I think after everything lately... my body decided enough was enough.”

The brunet gave a quiet laugh, turning his eyes back to Atlas. “Understandable. I mean, we can't have you relaxing  _ too _ much during your scheduled time off.” There was a beat of comfortable silence that passed between them, conversation lost as they simply let the ambient sounds of Mantle wash over them. Green eyes glanced downwards once more.

“But... it was nice... seeing you sleep so soundly.”

Red eyes stared back at the man, and the heat spread lightly to his cheeks at the comment. He turned his gaze firmly to the tether base. He was  _ not _ blushing. He  _ didn't _ blush. Especially after such an innocuous comment. He cleared his throat softly as his hands returned to his hips.

“You know... if it were anyone else... that'd come off as a little creepy. Not gonna lie.”

Clover snorted as he laughed at him, rich and warm and full of affection.

“But... thanks.”

The quiet addition had his mirth settling, and he watched the huntsman gently.

Qrow parted his lips to continue, but finding the words caught on the back of his tongue. He drew his gaze skywards once more, hoping the stars would help him, and he sighed softly.

“It's been... a _long_ while since I felt I could relax,” he began. “With everything that's happening... none of us have really had a chance to stop. So coming here... it's been busy, sure. But it's a different kind of busy. It's let the kids get their breath back after everything since Beacon.” Clover watched him carefully as he picked through his words. “Everything's a little more organised, and a little less fighting-for-our-lives kind of deal.”

The huntsman lowered his gaze, blinking at the ground.

“It's been good for everyone... even...” he trailed off, losing his voice softly. “...even me.”

Clover reached up, placing a hand gently to the huntsman's shoulder, earning him a faint smile in response.

“And... this morning... was good,” he added quietly, flicking red eyes back up to the man. “Real good.” A huff of a laugh as nerves roiled at the base of his stomach, and he found himself unable to keep his gaze steady on Clover's. “Guess I'm still... trying to process it a little... But I don't regret it. I mean- Well- Not _regret_ , but... I'm not- I, uh-”

He cut himself off sharply, giving a faint sigh, and knowing his mouth was getting ahead of his thoughts. Something he was  _ not _ used to. He had a brief internal war of words with himself behind closed eyes before meeting Clover's gaze firmly.

“You're one of the few people that... I _don't_ want to push away,” he told him.

Green eyes flicked between his, caught in the soft revelation for a moment. For Qrow to actually have been sorting through his thoughts to come to this conclusion – for him to have  _ said it _ to him – he knew was no light admission. Warmth grew deep in his chest, settling into him as everything else faded away behind him.

His hand slipped across Qrow's shoulders, guiding him into a gentle embrace with the man as he tucked his cheek into the curve of his neck. The huntsman wasn't really expecting such a response, and he returned the simple hug, hands brushing up along the curve of Clover's back.

It felt... nice. Utterly warming, to simply hold him like this, and be held in return. More to the point, Clover knew that it was something that was sorely needed. Hell, the amount of times he'd provided simple physical touch as an anchor for the man, only for it to be immediately accepted.

“Thank you...” Clover breathed gently against his shoulder.

Qrow felt his stomach twist at the quiet words, heat spreading along his neck. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who needed simple healing, his mind whispered.

He closed his eyes, just letting fingertips brush along his back in lazy little circles, feeling fingers do the same across his shoulders. It felt all too easy to simply stand there and indulge each other like this. A light pleasure; something that both of them needed.

The huntsman gently nuzzled Clover's head with his own, finding comfort in the way the other man's form softened against him.

“...welcome,” he murmured, warm smile gracing his lips.

After what felt like not enough time, Clover drew back from him lightly, arms still about each other and not wanting to part completely just yet. It suited Qrow just fine, who leaned in, softly brushing lips against each other. Warm breath tickled, almost hesitant, savouring the feeling, before bringing them together properly.

The quiet sound slipped from Clover, fingers slipping back to settle along the curve of Qrow's jaw, thumb brushing his cheek softly. Qrow in return drew one hand along the side of the man's uniform, brushing up to his lapels as fingertips found the warm hollow of his throat, just resting there.

They parted gently, a hair's breadth from the other, foreheads pressed together, and Clover smiled warmly to himself, almost feeling intoxicated by the soft kiss.

“Mm... been thinking about that all day...” he breathed, earning the breathy laugh from the huntsman.

“Careful... too much thinking's bad for a person...”

Qrow swore up and down that those green eyes sparkled – actually  _ sparkled _ – in heady mirth.

“Got any remedies for that, detective?”

The huntsman's smile broadened as he drew back slightly, both hands coming up to the lapels of the man's uniform, smoothing over them idly.

“A couple of ideas... here and there...” he began softly, eyes teasingly on his handiwork. “Though I guess it all depends on whether or not you're free for a bite to eat after tonight's babysitting gig is up.”

Green eyes narrowed faintly, warm smirk on his lips.

“Qrow Branwen, did you just ask me out to dinner?”

Colour flushed heavily across Qrow's cheeks as the reverie between them was shattered in a heartbeat, and a faintly embarrassed scowl settled onto the huntsman's features.

“Well I was _trying_ to be smooth about it,” he groused, dropping his hands entirely from the man. The laugh from Clover was bright and warm, only serving to darken the colour upon skin. He leaned forward as his mirth tapered off, pressing a gentle kiss to the man's cheek and drawing back from him.

“I'd love to,” he replied simply. “Gods knows I need the mental stimulation to keep going after this.”

Qrow still couldn't stop the grumble from slipping from him, despite the way he felt the edges around his irritation soften. Normally any suave attempts to woo a person with his words was quite a success; Clover, on the other hand, had no qualms about calling him out on it immediately. He just had to remind himself that it had been a while since he was last in the business of saying that kind of thing. Where it once used to come so naturally to his inebriated self, it honestly... hadn't been on his mind to stay in practice.

Well, that and all the previous times when he'd been too far gone to know what he was really saying, it  _ all  _ sounded so suave in his head.

Still... Clover had said yes, despite his bungled attempt to be smooth about it, and he rubbed at the back of his neck lightly.

“Well, I found a place a few blocks away from the Academy,” he told him, glancing back at him. “Seemed pretty nice, and-”

“Clover! Are you still here?”

The sharp voice called up from the street, and the brunet glanced behind him, walking to the edge of the building and staring down at the pavement.

“Oh there you are!” an old lady called up to him. “What are you doing up there? You're likely to break your neck coming down!”

He laughed at her with a wave. “All part of the job, Connie!” he replied. “Give me a second to come down!” Clover turned back to the huntsman, who merely raised a brow at him. The brunet gave a brief shrug. “I made a new friend during work hours. Want to come down and say hi?”

Qrow declined with a raised hand. “I think I'll be fine. Might as well keep doing your job for you while you're socialising, right?”

“Ouch, fighting words,” Clover gave him a brief wink. He turned back to the street and jumped atop a lamppost, sliding down it and landing easily.

The old woman sighed at him. “You kids are all about climbing up to places you shouldn't be and showing off these days,” she told him. The brunet placed his hands on his hips as he stood with her.

“Well, some of us just like getting a bird's eye view. Makes us feel taller.” She laughed richly at him, reaching for her satchel.

“Then don't let me stop you,” she replied, rummaging about inside. “Here, just like I promised. A thank you for our earlier conversation. _And_ because I know you military kids eat like sparrows on the job.” She offered him a small paper bag and he accepted it graciously, unfolding the top. It felt warm, freshly made, and smelt of rich apple and spices.

“You didn't have to go to all this trouble, really,” Clover told her, peering inside with a surprised smile. She waved him off.

“Nonsense! You're a good egg, and that's part of _my_ job!” she pointed to the bag. “If you're ever in the neighbourhood, come down to my bakery and I'll treat you just right.”

His smile warmed as he reached forward, hugging her gently. She gave him a solid squeeze before withdrawing from him. The woman placed her hands to her knees, bending lightly as something behind him caught her eye.

“Oh, did you want some too?”

Clover followed her gaze, and turned to see a raven on the pavement, waddling up to them without fear. It stopped a short distance away, cocking it's head at them. Clover turned away from it, pressing a hand to his mouth to stop the snicker from tearing free. Of all the stunts to pull...

The bird gave a soft caw and Connie laughed softly at it.

“Well aren't you a dear,” she commented, reaching into her bag once more. “You're lucky I travel with enough food to feed the army waiting for me at home.” She withdrew a muffin, tearing a chunk off and tossing it towards the raven. It bounced forward, deftly catching it and scarfing it down.

“Poor thing looks injured...” she commented.

Clover gave a noise of thought as he crouched down, Connie giving it another piece of muffin. “I think there's a clinic not too far from here. It should be no trouble to get it treated.” The raven gave a sharp caw at that, earning the laugh from the woman.

“Sounds like it hates going to the doctors as much as we do.”

The brunet held a hand out to it, giving the bird a wink. “I think if he behaves himself, he'll be back to full health in no time.”

The raven stared at the offered hand before fluffing up lightly. It padded forward and pecked at his fingers, Clover pulling back with a soft laugh. Connie could only give the man a soft hum of affection.

“You really _are_ in the habit of making friends wherever you go,” she told the operative. She handed him what was left of the muffin. “Here, don't let the poor thing go hungry. And you, eat those before they go cold.”

Clover stood once more, giving her an easy salute. “I will, and thank you once again,” he told her.

The woman waved him off. “So long as you tell all your friends about how good those taste, then that's all that matters to me,” she replied, patting his arm gently. With a final goodbye, she parted from him, quietly walking back from where she'd appeared and leaving Clover standing there with a warm smile on his face.

“Aw, she likes you.”

The voice from his side intruded on his thoughts gently, and he glanced over at Qrow standing there and smirking at him. The huntsman plucked the half-eaten muffin from the brunet's hand and happily took a bite out of it, his now human senses enjoying it far more than the bird.

“Also bakes a mean muffin,” he mumbled a little incoherently around his mouthful.

He was still chewing when Clover's lack of reply sunk in, and he frowned lightly at the softly judgemental look he was receiving.

“What? S'good.”

The operative shook his head lightly at him, the smile tinting his expression once more. “How often have you used that trick in order to get a free meal? Be honest now.”

Qrow finally swallowed, doing the brief mental gymnastics and even putting on a show of counting on his fingers for good measure. Clover laughed softly at him, resisting the urge to give him a playful shove.

“Seriously though,” the huntsman replied, “here and there. As to how well it works, depends on how long I stay as the bird.” The brunet mulled it over for a moment, watching him carefully.

“It makes sense while you're travelling.”

Qrow gave a noise of thought at that. “Sort of. A full size meal for a bird is a lot smaller than for this,” he gestured lightly to himself, “so it's relative. If I'm bedding down for the night somewhere after eating? It's fine. If I need to travel, I'm burning up too much energy.” He gave a shrug, offering the man a faint smile. “If birds can still be birds, right?”

Clover returned the smile easily, remembering his own words from the airship. It was something that felt a world away from everything that had happened to bring them to this point. How long had it been since the two of them were standing in the snow? Only a couple of days? It felt more like a couple of weeks to the brunet. The huntsman nodded his head back towards the tether, unfolding his arms.

“Come on, let's go finish your babysitting job,” he told him, reaching easily for his hand and lacing fingers together.

It was an easy motion, something so simple as they began to walk, but it still gave Clover pause. The warm smile crossed his lips at the warmth in his palm. He knew the ease with which Qrow gathered his hand came from the trust that had grown between them. Where once, barely a week or so ago, something as light as a hand on his shoulder would have wrought tension under his touch.

Now it came with a lightness as easy as brushing snow from his hair; it required no thought on his behalf, and it just felt natural.

Clover felt his fingers squeeze lightly in response to his thoughts, and he glanced over at the huntsman. The softly amused sound slipped from him, calling attention from red eyes.

“I think you're enjoying that a little _too_ much,” he told him. At the confused raise of a brow, Clover drew them to a stop, unlacing fingers to tap the side of his own cheek. Qrow reached up in realisation, brushing the back of his hand across his mouth, earning the soft laugh from the brunet.

“Here.” Fingers reached up, the pad of a thumb brushing the offending crumbs away. “No need to save any for later,” he added, raising his little bag of treats. Qrow gave him a wry smile as they continued walking.

“And you accuse _me_ of trying to score a free meal,” he murmured.

“What can I say? Just lucky I suppose.” Qrow couldn't stop the quiet laugh that slipped from him as he bumped his shoulder playfully. Clover took the jab with grace, laughing him off.

Conversation came easy to them, as it always did, and they returned to their last vantage point, overlooking the tether clamp from atop the water tower. They set their newfound shared dinner between them, Clover downright overjoyed when he discovered the scent that had been torturing him was a slice of freshly baked apple tea cake. Qrow only raised a brow at him, happily munching on another muffin.

“One of your favourites?” he asked with a smirk.

The brunet gave a soft laugh. “Is it that obvious?” He seemed to hesitate for a moment before leaving it in the bag. “Think I'll save it for later. Something to write a report by.”

Qrow gave him a faint smile, red eyes lingering on him for a moment before turning his gaze back up to Atlas. It was almost scary to think at how normal life had become since they arrived in the capital. Well, normal by any of their standards; the world-scouring hunt for ancient relics created by the gods in order to kill an immortal sorceress was just another dot on the map for them.

It was also probably one of the  _few_ opportunities they'd have to capture that normalcy for a while.

The huntsman leant back on his hand, biting back the sigh that sat on his tongue. It was something he'd already discussed with Clover, however brief, but he was glad the kids were allowed something safe and familiar once more. Military or not, an Academy was still an Academy, and he could see them relaxing, falling back into old habits from Beacon.

Being kids again.

Red eyes narrowed faintly. He didn't want them to  _ever_ have to fight for that right. Not like him.

His gaze ducked to the horizon, velvet blue sky meeting the jagged mountains. It was also scary to think how normal his  _own_ life had become since arriving in Atlas. He'd settled into a routine becoming of a regular huntsman. There was no slinking about behind the shadows, playing spy for a man who had betrayed everything he'd ever known. He'd found peace in his sobriety, allowing him to start gathering the shards of his life that had been scattered at his feet for so long.

He'd...

He'd learned to trust someone again.

The stark notion still weighed heavy on his mind, and he still couldn't understand how it happened. Yet he was eternally grateful to the hand that had guided him. The one that had allowed him to just... breathe again.

His gaze settled on the street below them. Would he ever be able to keep ahold of this normalcy once the Amity plan was complete? He knew there was no stopping in Atlas; it was barely even the halfway point for everything they'd achieved so far.

Would things... simply slide back as they once were, once they left?

Qrow closed his eyes with a soft sigh. No, he knew he couldn't let himself do that; things might always get tough, but he was done disappointing his family like that. It had been a hard lesson learned, one that nearly cost him  _everything_ , but he knew there was going to be no more intentional hurt.

_You have to give yourself time to adjust. But you never stop learning_ .

The words breathed softly into his mind, and red eyes blinked open once more. As easy as slipping under his skin, the brunet knew exactly what to say to gently guide him back. And that... was another thing, wasn't it?

He glanced over at the man next to him, seemingly oblivious to his roiling thoughts as he watched over the city. Clover had been a veritable anchor in his storm, shaking down everything he once knew about himself as truth, and helping to pick up the pieces. He'd helped him realise more about himself in a couple of weeks than anyone had ever attempted in a lifetime.

He never pushed more than was necessary; satisfied with what he was given, and never expecting anything else from Qrow. Clover had been so patient with him and his endless shutdowns, mental walls, and complete and utter inability to communicate with someone.

Yet... it had become easier. As easy as taking a deep, clear breath.

It had become an almost unspoken language between them. A hand on a shoulder, a gentle squeeze of fingers, the quiet laugh at his words. The acceptance of this thing that had blossomed between them had been mutual and unhurried. What started as a simple exercise of trust had grown to something that ran far deeper than either of them could ever have expected.

He'd helped him remember he still had room left in his heart for more than just family.

Qrow felt the warmth gather along his neck, and he took a bite out of his forgotten muffin, turning his eyes back to the street as the faint crease of worry settled upon his brow.

How could he ever... say goodbye to that?

Even if they left, what would be left of himself to return? Once it was all over – if it was ever truly going to end – could they really pick themselves up and carry on with this, as if nothing had been paused between them?

Would he even be able to return to Atlas after all the fighting was done?

Or would he...

He stuffed what was left of his muffin into his mouth, forcing the morbid thoughts from his head. He chewed viciously, vaguely telling himself not to choke as he swallowed it down. Whatever happened, happened. And if it happened to be that he died protecting his family against Salem, then that was all that mattered to him.

He would protect those he loved until the bitter end.

The sharp thought brought him back from the heat that had settled at the back of his throat, and resounding silence rang in his mind with a hollow, echoing peal. Qrow blinked a handful of times, surprised realisation crossing his features as he turned to stare at Clover fully, red eyes widening slightly and suddenly taking in every detail and feature upon the man, as if noticing it all for the very first time.

The brunet sat there, one leg propped up with an arm resting atop it as he leant back casually, surveying his charge with nonchalant indifference. A military man at practised ease, ready to move at a moments notice. He saw him entirely as he sat next to him, and he knew what they shared was more than mere trust. More than quiet comfort. More than simple affection. The huntsman felt his breath chill in his lungs and he couldn't tear red eyes away from him.

Qrow felt something in his chest twist as the heavy thought settled into his bones, wrapping itself about him and squeezing the breath from him.

Those he loved...

Clover, he...

He loved... Clover...

“...Clo-”

“Hey Clover!”

The sharp cry from the street smothered his voice, and Qrow couldn't stop the panicked inhale. As the brunet snapped his gaze around at both his name and the sharp breath, there was a scattering of black feathers, and the raven scarpered away in a flurry of beating wings.

Clover was torn for a moment, having both heard the shout and caught the briefest glimpse of the huntsman vanishing. He got to his feet, heart in his throat as green eyes scanned the horizon of buildings before him; Qrow had  _flown_ away.

His  _arm_ -

“Hey, you there? Shift's up!”

The crease settled onto his brow as he let out the quiet hiss of a sigh. “Yeah, coming down!” he called back, tearing his gaze away. It didn't even matter what had startled him like that; he needed to find him. The brunet couldn't keep the frown from his expression as he quickly gathered his goods together, making the drop down to the street.

Booted feet greeted the pavement with a thud, and he stood upright once more, waving easily at his replacement with feigned relaxation.

“Sorry about that; found the best vantage point, but it takes a bit to come down,” he explained simply. Not that it was a lie by any stretch. The soldier waved him off.

“Lucky you didn't get eaten by a Nevermore being so exposed up there,” the man laughed at his own joke. “Hey, enjoy the flight back!” The two of them waved each other off, but Clover couldn't leave just yet; he had to find Qrow.

Green eyes cast about the street, seeing nothing but the sharp contrast of lights and steaming heat vents. He had a vague idea of where he went, and he jogged in that direction, senses keen to the sounds of the huntsman. He caught a pained sound and he jerked to a stop at the mouth of an alleyway.

He was already bolting into it before the second round of cursing hit his ears.

Qrow sat hunched over at the base of a wall, clutching his arm tightly to his chest and willing himself not to shake as rivulets of pain jolted through him. His breath was sharp and hard behind clenched teeth as Clover slid to his knees before him.

“Gods, son of a- I _panicked!_ ” he ground out, pain lancing through his expression. “Of all the stupid fu-”

“Hey, hey, easy there,” Clover curled fingers about his shoulders.

“Didn't hurt this bad the _first_ time-”

“Come on. Up,” the brunet ignored the pained cursing and wrapped his arms about Qrow's shoulders, bodily pulling the huntsman to his feet. “We're going to Pietro.”

Qrow couldn't stop the tremor that was running through his arm, nerves viciously protesting as renewed pain shot through him. Clover was already walking them both to the street, helping Qrow not to stumble over his own feet.

“S-Sure, whatever.”

The acceptance wasn't up for debate with how Clover moved them both in a heady beeline down the pavement. Qrow had to bring the guy back from his utter determination to get there in a minute flat, and he pulled gently against the brunet's hold on him.

“Hold up, hey,” he hissed out. They came to a stop, Qrow getting a chance to settle his arm a little better against his chest. “No need to break a landspeed record here. S'not gonna break any more with this on,” he told him, eyes flitting to his cast.

Clover bit back the frustrated urge to protest the statement, and he nodded simply. “Alright,” he replied simply, leaving it at that as he kept his arm firmly about Qrow's shoulders, walking at a more suitable pace as they made their way through Mantle.

Of all the stunts to pull...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Connie's original name was actually Miranda, and stayed that way for about three and a half weeks before I had a delayed lightbulb moment and remembered gen:Lock exists. Whups.


	10. Healing And Hurting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So about that h/c tag...
> 
> :D <3

The walk through Mantle was a quiet affair, if not a relatively quick one. Clover still insisted on setting the pace, despite the simple grumbling from his charge; he knew Qrow had been right, but it still didn't stop him from feeling that ball of worry settle in his throat.

And – as he remembered – according to Qrow himself, it wasn't the first time he'd limped home after a crash landing.

He just happened to be getting an escort. Twice in a row.

The pharmacy came into view, and Clover had to bite back the sigh; he really hoped that not only was Pietro still taking patients, but that he could make one hell of an exception. He might be one of the finest minds when it came to working with technology, but Clover knew that his medical expertise ran only as deep as attaching the prosthetics he worked upon.

It was a shot in the dark, but he also knew Qrow would prefer a known quantity rather than an unknown one.

He pushed the door open with one hand, leading them both inside. Qrow glanced about the room, finding it empty of life and he slipped from Clover's grip, glad to have a chance to settle his arm once more. The brunet walked forward a few paces, brow pinching as he stared towards the back of the room.

“Doctor?” he called. “Pietro? Are you in?”

Surely he wouldn't just leave his front door unlocked-

A flourishing head of red hair popped into view past the treatment table across the room, and both men turned to spy Penny smiling broadly at them. She jogged over to them with a wave.

“Clover, it is good to see you! And you as well, Qrow!”

Ever the ray of sunshine, the brunet mused with a smile.

“Penny, is your father around? We have a bit of a problem.” She clapped her hands together.

“Yes, of course! Let me take you straight to him.” And before either of them could get another word in, she was heading right back from where she came, letting the two of them trail behind her. She walked briskly into the rear of the pharmacy, deeper into his work area. It was a cluttered walk at times, and Qrow had to wonder how the guy walked through all of it.

“Father, we have visitors!” she called as they entered a relatively familiar room. A treatment table sat off to one side, each of the walls covered with book shelves and lightboxes for x-rays, desks and computer arrays atop them. It looked like a copy of his front room, with more space and even more equipment jammed into that space.

Pietro turned away from a microscope, a warm smile lighting up his entire face. “Clover! Just the person I wanted to see!” He paused as Qrow stepped in behind him, and brown eyes settled immediately on the way the huntsman held his arm, flitting back up to him. “You're... Ruby's uncle.”

“Qrow,” he replied simply. “Look, we hate to just walk in like this, but...”

“We... have a bit of a medical issue,” Clover finished for him. Pietro gave a soft hum, turning around fully to face them.

“Yes, I can see that. Come stand over here and place your arm on the table, we'll snap a new x-ray and take a look at you,” he told him, gesturing to the table as he wandered over with him. “Penny, get me the original picture of that, if you could. Then get this boy something for the pain,” he asked her, tapping at the control panel at the side of the table and raising it up slightly. The huntsman did as he was told, gingerly laying his forearm across the surface.

“At once, father,” she replied, walking to one of the computers. There was a brief flurry of typing, Clover looking over her shoulder with brows raised as the Atlesian Military system booted up under her fingers. She dove deeper into the system, fighting off warning after warning, at one point the screen flashing an angry red at her before it all blipped away, and the images of Qrow's initial scans popped up on the lightboxes. The huntsman recognised them and laughed softly.

“Should've gotten Penny to look for me with how quickly she just destroyed your security system there,” he teased Clover with a grin. The brunet couldn't help but shrug his shoulders at the man.

“Funny, I would've said the end result was worth it,” he replied smoothly, green eyes staring back at him.

Qrow was stuck for a moment before he cleared his throat softly, ignoring the way the words drew the heat under his collar with ease. The small diode on the cuffs of his cast blinked as the machine accessed it, the huntsman staring down at it in surprise.

“This thing has some sort of tech in it?” he asked dumbly.

“A rather rudimentary system for internal monitoring, but it does nothing to help heal,” Pietro explained, fingers tapping at the control panel once more and after a moment, the new image popped up alongside the first. The scientist walked over to the lightbox, studying in quiet silence, one hand stroking his beard absently.

“So you did this a couple of days ago, and I'm guessing this was only a little while ago,” he asked, pointing at them in sequence. “How on earth did you manage to re-break it _through_ your cast?”

Qrow blinked a little, his mind skittering to a stop; he hadn't thought about it that far ahead.

“Ah, he was with me on patrol,” Clover offered. “There was an icy patch neither of us saw, and he slipped over.”

“It has been quite a bad season for slips and fall injuries,” Penny commented as she inspected a small array of injectable glass vials, selecting a couple. “Just this week alone, father has treated so many patients who have jarred, dented, or even _broken_ their own prosthetics from slipping over.”

Pietro shook his head with a sigh, reaching up to pluck his glasses off and wipe them absently. “Well, there's nothing for it. It looks like the bone's shifted and it'll need to be set in the right place internally.” Red eyes widened slightly and he blanched a little at the idea, withdrawing his arm and cradling it gently.

“What, like... re-break it?” he asked, suddenly not in favour of this plan _at all_.

“Oh heavens no! It's already broken enough,” Pietro laughed softly at him, pointing at his cast with his glasses. “No, we're just going to replace that sloppy mess of a thing with something that'll do the job a lot better with a heck of a lot less pain. Something those butchers upstairs don't have access to.”

There was an awkward beat of time where Qrow and Clover exchanged glances, the latter feeling like they'd strayed into a sore subject for the man.

“You... mean the medics?” he asked tentatively.

“I know what I said,” Pietro snapped softly at the operative, who merely raised his hands in light defence. Alright. A _very_ sore subject. “I swear, you break your damn arm, and this is the best they can give a person? Pitiful!” The scientist walked over to a set of drawers, rifling through them for a moment. “You could've saved yourselves a whole mess of bother and wasted effort and come straight to me.” Pietro continued to grouse, moving onto the next drawer and doing the same.

“Penny, where did I leave that aura cuff?” he asked the girl. She perked at the sound of her name, heading to the opposite side of the room.

“Right here, father. It's charged and ready to go,” she told him, walking over to Qrow, hands ready to place atop his arm. “Now, it's time for your pain relief. I'd appreciate it if you could co-operate with me,” she told him. Without really waiting for a response, she brought a tourniquet to the top of his arm, ratcheting it tightly. He fought off the wince at the sudden action.

“A few squeezes of your hand, please. And... excellent!” Qrow glanced away as the injection found its way under his skin, and in a heartbeat, felt the first bead of blissful numbness at the site. Penny released the tourniquet, and the sensation radiated along his arm, wringing the relieved sigh from him.

“Shall I take his cast off and begin placement for the internal alignment?”

_That_ brought him up short, and he froze up a little.

“Wait, how... much is this going to hurt?” the huntsman asked a little too quickly. Clover walked to him, noticing how against everything he was. He fought off the urge to sigh at him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You'll be fine; Pietro isn't the best scientist in Atlas for a reason. _And_ he's made a living out of attaching prosthetics to his patients both safely and relatively pain-free,” the brunet told him softly, tipping his head towards him. “Do you think Maria would've let anyone near her if it was going to hurt?”

Qrow had to concede  _that_ point to him; the feisty old thing would sooner punch someone than let them lay a finger on her. The thought brought a faint smile to his face, and fingers squeezed at his shoulder.

“Alright, but if you're wrong, I'm going to find you and haunt you for the rest of your life,” came the sharp reply, earning a quiet laugh from the brunet as he slipped back from him.

“Don't worry; the stuff Pietro has access to is better than the regular ol' hot dog sauce,” he told him with a wink.

The words brought the warm smile to Qrow's lips as he sat himself up on the table, allowing Penny to begin the simple task of removing the original cast. Pietro cast a thoughtful glance over to the operative before settling on his daughter.

“Penny, do you think you could take Clover here and help him reassemble Kingfisher? I'm sure he'd be delighted to have it back in working order _and_ test out the adjustments I made to it,” he asked the girl simply. The redhead perked up at the suggestion, her hands coming away from Qrow's arm.

“Oh, that sounds like a wonderful idea!” She reached over to the operative, taking both of his hands into hers and already pulling him from the room. “Come along, it's just a little further ahead. It was such a fun design to work with; a very interesting weapon! It _did_ need some extensive repairs after your match, however, but it was no-”

The door slid shut behind them, cutting off her flurry of excited words. Qrow gave a faint sigh as the chatterbox left the two of them in deafening silence, however he  _did_ feel downright bad for Clover having to deal with it solo now.

Well, maybe not entirely bad, he mused with a soft smile.

At his side, Pietro gave a heavy sigh, resuming the task his daughter left. “Well now, that's better. It was getting stuffy in here,” he commented simply. The cast came apart easy enough in his hands, and the man guided Qrow to support it gently for a moment.

“Kid likes to talk a lot and help even more,” the huntsman replied simply, staring at the faint bruising that still sat upon skin. “Kind of like a bunch of other kids I know.”

“Now if that isn't the truest thing; they're a wonderful group. Especially that niece of yours, Yang.” Pietro slid a set of calipers along Qrow's arm for measurement, just below his elbow, doing the same about his wrist. “She certainly seems to know when to talk and when to leave room for silence. Must be the influence of that girlfriend of hers.”

The words brought Qrow to a sudden halt and he blinked back at the man. “Girl-?” His brain took a handful of seconds to hit a home run. “Wait, you mean Blake?” Pietro glanced back at him as he drew away, mild surprise covering his features.

“You're telling me you didn't know?”

Qrow held his gaze as he shook his head lightly. “Thought they were kinda close, just being on the same team and all. I mean... I know they've gone through a hell of a lot of stuff together, but...” he admitted. His brain caught up to him a little, and he looked over their interactions together, brows raising. “Huh...”

The scientist took the man's words as pure honesty, and he sighed heavily as he ran fingers over the components of Qrow's new cast, faint smile upon his expression.

“Well, maybe it's just an insight that comes with age,” he began softly, reaching up to the huntsman's arm once more with a soft chuckle. “I might be old, but I'm not dead yet; I know young love when I see it. I've seen it in those two girls, I see it in my patients. I see it in my darling girl with the affection she has for Ruby.”

Pietro clipped a band about Qrow's arm, placing the small aura cuff Penny had collected about his wrist. He tapped it on, and a muted red light bled out from under it, seeping across his skin and stopping at the band below his elbow. The huntsman raised his brow at it, feeling gentle heat emanate from under the light, the familiar sensation of his own aura tingling deep within the muscle.

“I even see it in him.”

Red eyes blinked back up to the scientist, who was watching him very matter-of-factly.

Qrow felt his mouth go dry, and he flexed his fingers lightly, brow pinching faintly. “Uh, that's...”

“Or am I wrong with the way that boy looks at you?” Pietro pressed softly as he leant back, brown eyes sharply watching the huntsman.

The silence hung between them, and the huntsman ducked his gaze to his arm, not really knowing what to say or how to react. It wasn't as if it were a secret; merely that it was something barely a few days old, and the topic of telling people hadn't come up.

In the back of his mind he _did_ have to worry how this would affect Clover's position though. And his own mission. But... it certainly wasn't going to stay a secret. Not when it was so easily noticed, like Pietro had very quickly pointed out.

“No...”

Qrow found himself breathing the word.

“You're not...”

He opened his mouth to continue, before his voice caught on his tongue. The faint crease settled into his brow, and he settled his hands in his lap once more, heat tickling his skin and flushing lightly across his cheeks.

“We're both... still figuring it out...” he murmured. “Figuring _everything_ out I suppose.”

Pietro reached up to place a hand to the huntsman's shoulder, drawing that gaze back up to brown eyes.

“Then all I can tell you, is don't take too long to think about it,” he told him gently, eyes shining with a hidden warmth. “And don't, for whatever reason, let go.” He slid his hand away, heading back to the lightbox and flicking it off. “Though I will say, you certainly know how to pick them...” he trailed off in a quiet chuckle.

“About time someone showed him how to relax a little, and think outside that Military shaped box he lives in. Why, there's only two people in this kingdom that work harder than him, and he works for both of them, so I will say you've both got your work cut out for you,” Pietro commented, glancing back at him.

Qrow stood up once more, hand idly rubbing along the tickling sensation in his arm. It felt... a little odd to be getting relationship advice from someone he hardly knew. Hell, it felt downright weird to be getting  _relationship_ advice, but it didn't stop the warmth from settling into him at the thought of it.

He rolled the word around in his mind. Relationship. It felt big. Clumsy on the back of his tongue, but it felt... good.

He kind of liked how it sounded.

“I... _we'll_... keep that in mind,” he murmured, almost to himself as the soft smile crept through his expression.

Pietro smiled warmly at him before a thought struck him, and he walked back to the huntsman. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he gestured for the man to hold out his arm, tapping the aura cuff. “Keep an eye on this indicator here. Once it goes green, you're right to take it off; ah, shouldn't be more than four days or so.”

Qrow's brows went up. “Four  _days?_ ”

“Better than three weeks on good behaviour.” Pietro patted his arm gently with a wink. “It utilises your own aura to help speed up the process, so don't go showing off or throwing yourself into anything unnecessary in the meantime.”

The huntsman drew his arm up to look at it, turning it gently over and flexing his fingers. At least that explained the colour if it was using his own concentrated aura to heal his body. He had a vague idea of how Atlas was utilising aura based technology, but this was something else alright.

“Don't worry, I think I'm done showing off for a while,” he replied, folding his arms across his chest. “I still have a job to do, but I know when to take it easy.”

“Well, you're a better patient than most if you stick to your guns like that,” Pietro remarked. He glanced over Qrow's shoulder as the door slid open; Penny and Clover returning to them, and he walked towards the two of them. “Perfect timing! How does it feel now?”

Clover withdrew Kingfisher from his side, twirling it easily as it extended fully. “It's a relief to have it back. The balance  _does_ feel a little different though,” he remarked, bringing the reel up to inspect it. Pietro nodded, placing a hand to his beard.

“I adjusted the weight slightly by setting the reel a little further out from the rod, but with a touch of practise, you should be able to cast further with less effort; kind of like a pendulum effect. I also replaced your old line for something a touch sturdier,” he explained. “I'm sure Penny gave you all the details, but the main thing is it's a stronger design now. Though it _will_ still be susceptible to, oh, say, getting munched by a giant transforming scythe.”

“Good to know our second match will go just as well as our first,” Qrow told him with a cheeky smirk.

“I wouldn't be so sure of that,” Clover replied, retracting Kingfisher and tucking it back onto his belt. “You still haven't seen everything in my bag of tricks. _And_ I still have to return the favour.”

“And I for one, am happy the Academy keeps sending work my way, so both of you, be my guests and keep adding it to their bill,” Pietro commented, drawing the rich laugh from Clover.

“When the work you do is the best, we wouldn't have it any other way.”

“Well, the work I do is going to be late if you boys don't stop dawdling in my workshop,” came the playful ribbing. Qrow unfolded his arms, looking a little stuck for a moment.

“Ah, hey. About the payment,” he ventured. The scientist waved him off.

“Nonsense, consider it a roundabout way of thanking you for letting our girls play together.”

“I wouldn't call murdering Grimm 'playing,' but...” Qrow murmured. The scientist waved the two of them off.

“Go on, scoot. And don't forget to keep an eye on that indicator,” Pietro reminded him. They both gave him a faint wave as they made for the door, stepping into the hallway and beginning the winding path through the back of the pharmacy.

Clover raised a brow at the dull glow that wrapped about Qrow's arm. “Hm, suits you,” he commented lightly.

“What can I say,” came the easy reply. “Red's my colour.”

The soft laugh met his ears as they made it to the front office. Clover had pressed a hand to the front door, when Pietro called out to them, drawing them both to a stop. Qrow glanced back at him.

“About that payment of yours,” he began, walking over to them. “There is one thing you can do for me.”

The huntsman glanced at the brunet for a moment, returning red eyes to the scientist. “Uh, sure. Name it.”

Pietro smiled softly at him. “Don't forget what I told you.”

Qrow stilled at the gentle words, and he felt the warmth gather at his collar, faintly returning the man's smile. His advice went against everything that had settled in his stomach; and he fought not to writhe against his own thoughts at the suggestion.

But... he was learning to accept that feeling for what it was. To alter his thinking towards it a little bit. And it was all thanks to their topic in question. He glanced downwards, mulling over their conversation once more, before meeting the man's gaze.

“I won't,” he told him warmly. “Thanks.”

Clover glanced at the huntsman, knowing there was more to their shared goodbye than he was privy to, and he joined Qrow when they waved at the scientist once more, finally slipping from the pharmacy. He didn't have long to wonder, as Qrow pulled the door shut behind him and they set off once more into the freezing night air.

“So Pietro knows.”

Spoken so simply, with all the air of someone talking about the turn of weather. The brunet's brows went up as they walked. He was sure he heard that wrong.

“He... knows.”

Qrow cleared his throat softly. “Yeah he, uh... hit me right between the eyes with it about a minute after you left.”

Clover nodded at that, kind of accepting the statement for what it was. “Oh,” he replied. “He  _knows._ ” He turned his gaze over to the huntsman. “So I'm guessing that whole conversation just now...”

The colour flushed along Qrow's skin, heat crawling up his neck, despite the cold air around them. The scientist's words still sat in his stomach, and now that he'd brought the topic up, it made his own internal conversation from earlier weigh heavily in the forefront of his mind.

_I know young love when I see it_ .

Red eyes ducked to the pavement as they walked.

Was it... really that?

Was it so easy to see in both of them?

Did Clover really..?

“He uh... he just wanted to make sure we're both... okay with everything,” he replied, somewhat smoothly. “You being in the Military and me travelling eventually. It's... it's a hard thing.”

The lie stung his tongue as it slipped from him, and he drew his lip gently between teeth. He had no intention of voicing that word to Clover just yet, especially when his heart thudded in his chest at the notion of it. Hell, he didn't even know if Clover felt the same way, despite some  _very_ convincing arguments.

The thought still terrified him down to his bones, while at the same time grabbing him and dearly squeezing the life out of him.

He shifted, needing to move his fingers, as he drew his hands up, rubbing his arms lightly. That fuzzy feeling still blossomed deep in his muscles from where drugs swirled through his system, and that coupled with the cold was enough to draw the faint shiver from him.

At his side, Clover sighed softly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, it's... one thing I've been thinking about for a little while now,” he told him softly. Red eyes glanced in his direction at the tone of his voice. The brunet gave a light gesture in front of him, trying to find a voice to his words. In the end, he closed his eyes briefly, sighing softly.

“The search for the relics, and taking the fight to Salem...” he began quietly. “I know it's inevitable. And I also know that as their guardian, you'll have to help escort the teams all the way to the finish line.”

Clover drew to a stop, Qrow following suit as the brunet swallowed, suddenly looking  _very_ lost. Silence trickled between them as the man sifted through his words, like catching sand in his fingers. The huntsman felt his brow pinch in concern as the man reached for him, fingers resting gently above his elbow, curling about his arm firmly like an anchor, green eyes refusing to leave his.

“I just...”

Fingers squeezed, heavy emotion weighing behind those eyes.

“I don't want to lose you.”

Dark brows went up at the soft ache in those words, stealing all thought from him. Suddenly the cold air of the street didn't matter to him, and his breath caught deep in his chest. Qrow let his hands drop as he felt the full measure of what Clover had said to him.

He swallowed through a tight throat, forcing himself to remember how to breathe again, and he reached for the man. He pulled him in tightly, arms wrapping about him in a firm embrace, and feeling Clover do the same. It was enough to hurt, to squeeze the life out of both of them, and they both let it happen.

Qrow had a feeling he wasn't the only one thinking about what was to come, but now, he knew. With a heaviness that weighed deep in his chest, he  _knew_ .

The shaky exhale at the curve of his shoulder told him everything he needed to hear, and fingers curled tightly into the man's uniform. For everything that the brunet had helped him with, all the times he'd been a steadying presence in his life, he'd simply accepted it. He'd had... gods, he'd been so blinded by his own dilemmas that he'd utterly failed to notice how he'd affected the man's own life.

He knew they had become close. Knew they had formed a deeper bond that ran thicker than mere semblances and similarities. Through shared stories and experiences, it had become startlingly clear to the huntsman that their trust soon ran both ways.

Yet in the face of  _this_ kind of relationship, he'd had no idea of his own importance to the man.

He'd been such a  _fool_ .

“Me either...”

The tension that ran under his hands softened, a faint tremor greeting fingers, and he held him tightly, letting the brunet breathe raggedly against him. Qrow slipped fingers upwards, finding the nape of his neck and threading gently into short hair.

He didn't want to voice a promise he couldn't keep. He couldn't do that to him. So he merely clung to him, tightly, like a drowning man finding purchase in a storm.

The world could have started falling down around them, and Qrow realised he couldn't care any less. All that mattered to him was the world wrapped within his arms. Red eyes closed, feeling heat burn behind them.

There were no more gods left in the world, and still Qrow prayed that all would turn out right in the end.

***

A mutual silence lingered between the two of them as they returned to the city shrouded in clouds. Both felt the ache of straying into a topic that did little more than threaten to tear at them needlessly; staring into a future of what-if's and maybe's.

For one of them, it was the shaking feeling of actually giving a damn about those what-if's. For the other, it was the gnawing doubt that ruined the foundations of his usually confident maybe's.

Not a word was spoken between the pair as they made their way back up to the relative safety of Atlas. Fingers laced together, clutching at their lifeline, never breaking, never faltering as the night continued to move around them. The clouds had settled in thick through the streets, and distant safety lights from buildings and aircraft winked on one by one within the sky.

Qrow felt his throat almost ache with the taste that hung in the air; the dense pea soup of clouds was worse than any regular mist he'd experienced. Red eyes glanced upwards, not seeing the spire of the Academy, but its dotted outline as warning lights glittered over it.

Part of him sank, and he wanted little more than to not go back there. He didn't want to leave Clover alone if he could help it.

As if dipping into his worry, there was a gentle pull at his hand as Clover drew them both to a stop. Red eyes watched him carefully, still seeing such a vulnerable note in his expression, no matter how guarded he might have appeared. It hurt to see; pulled at his chest, and he wanted nothing else than to smother that broken worry and promise him it would all be fine.

He wanted to, but gods, he couldn't do it to him. False promises never were his thing.

Clover nodded over his shoulder. “Did you... want to come up?”

His voice was quiet, dry despite the choking moisture that clung to the air. It took Qrow a handful of time to realise their surroundings; a charming tree-lined avenue where streetlights stood like shining ghosts in the cloud, to the black metal gate behind the brunet. A tall grey apartment building stretched upwards into the cloud, its top a dark silhouette.

He quietly realised where they'd stopped and found no reason to protest the question. He'd already long since made up his mind not to leave him alone. Fingers squeezed gently as he offered the brunet a faint smile.

“No better offers yet,” he told him softly.

Clover returned the smile, leading them through the gate and into the building. The main entry was sparse inside, cold, in that way that all things connected to the Military seemed to be. Remarkably like the Academy, and probably designed by them down to the last nail that hung the impersonal paintings on the walls.

His apartment was on the top floor, and Qrow refused to comment on his luck of having the best view. The entryway was bright and inviting when the lights were flicked on; a different tone to the stark hallways outside. Clean, and neat, just as he expected it to be really, but even that had him thinking. What about Clover had him expecting anything at this point?

It was tastefully decorated; little touches here and there, and he had to idly wonder if the brunet had done it himself, or if he'd simply fallen into the place when it was assigned to him. Book-lined shelves straining under their weight, and greenery dotted the place here and there, the more he looked. A blanket thrown over the back of a couch, remote in easy reach, a coffee mug ready by the machine. Little homely things here and there.

No, this was where he lived. Probably not every day, and he more than likely had people looking after it whilst he was away, but it was his home.

He stood in the entryway, suddenly feeling a little out of place in the man's  _home_ . Red eyes ducked away. Hell, it wasn't as if Qrow had already invited him into his own room not so long ago, his mind argued. Which, given the way things progressed, was the only reason he was standing here, now.

Movement at his side brought him back to Clover kicking off his boots, prompting the huntsman to do the same, and fingers gently slipped from one another as socks were dumped on the ground. Bare feet padded across the tile as Clover placed Kingfisher and his small bag of goods on the kitchen bench, continuing past it to reach for the kettle.

Qrow followed after him, placing Harbinger gently next to the weapon, still feeling the muted weight of heavy thoughts blanketing them both. His thumb idly stroked the worn handle, knowing this feeling all too well, and knowing there was an all too easy way of forcing it all from his head.

This, however...

This had him wanting to stop in his tracks. To focus on the feeling and recognise it. He knew exactly what they all had to do when it came down to the relics, and to Salem, and he knew the outcome was slim to downright bleak, but...

It had him wanting to face it. To fight against it.

He had  _something_ to face it for.

“Hey, about... what you said earlier,” he began softly. Clover glanced over his shoulder from where he was spooning tea leaves into a pot. The huntsman felt his words die on his tongue and his gaze drifted away once more, frustration nipping at him.

The brunet smiled faintly at him, turning back to his task. “I kind of put a dampener on the evening,” he told him softly. “Sorry about that...”

“You didn't.”

The softly hurried response brought him to a stop once more, and green eyes closed, the quiet exhale slipping from him.

“But I _did_ let my emotions get the better of me,” Clover replied softly, carefully, moving to fill and turn on the kettle. The quiet sigh slipped from him, a gently frustrated sound. “When you're trained to always move forward regardless of consequences, rather than _look_ forward at repercussions... It's... something that doesn't happen too often, and... you don't know how to react when it does.”

His hands stilled on the counter.

“So you learn to bury it. To keep moving forward. To not... to not look too hard at it.”

Qrow's brow pinched at the words, and he found he hated every single one of them the more he spoke. He'd been forced to stifle his own issues, sure, but that was always of  _his_ choosing. Clover had... gods, he had no  _choice_ but to foster his own detachment. To ignore his own emotional responses to what was a downright normal thing.

He was hating the Military more and more.

He realised he was squeezing Harbinger's handle dangerously hard when he heard the faint creak of leather under his fingers, and he slipped away from it as Clover continued.

“I didn't... realise it was there again... _had_ been there again for some time now... until I was forced to take a good, long look at my future.”

The huntsman stepped quietly around the counter, placing a hand to the man's shoulder. Green eyes turned away from him, closing at the gentle contact. Qrow felt the tremor under his fingers and felt the ice twisting at his heart.

“And it scared me.” The huff of a laugh and fingers curled tightly on the counter.

“Clover...”

Qrow had no measure for how to do this, but he damn well knew the tone of that voice. Fingers squeezed on his shoulder, giving a light pull to get the man to face him, and glistening green eyes stared straight back at him. The shaky breath fell from the brunet as he blinked back at Qrow, fractured smile on his face.

“Because I _don't_ want to lose you...”

The huntsman pulled him forward, wrapping arms about him in a crushing embrace. Clover's fingers immediately found his back, fisting tight into fabric as he shook against him.

The same words as before. The same words that had echoed through his soul the entire trip back to Atlas. The same words now, soft and broken, as the man wept against his shoulder, clutching at him with enough force to hurt. Qrow could count on one hand the number of times he'd been in this position, even including the girls.

Yet only one time stuck out in his mind, stark and thorny, refusing to let go of his memories. Taiyang had clutched at him so hard, just like this, spilling his grief onto his shoulder. Ruby had been too young to remember why. Yang had taken her outside to play in the piles of leaves. Qrow had only offered them both a broken smile.

Red eyes closed at the memory, and he found it still gave him no comfort in how to help the man. A death that had already happened could be more easily grieved than the threat of not knowing the future.

Summer was gone, and Taiyang poured his loss onto the man's shoulder.

Qrow still stood there, and Clover clutched brokenly at him as he wept for his own failings.

Both ultimately felt the same in his mind, and fingers released from their tight hold on the man, one hand sifting into brunet hair as the other brushed soothing circles on his back. How could you comfort someone when you yourself had no idea what the future held? When any promise made felt empty and hollow?

He had no answer for any of it, his mind simply grasping at smoke.

All he knew was that it hurt.

It hurt like _hell_.

“...m'not going anywhere,” he murmured against short hair, and together they stood there. The shudder fell from broad shoulders, like an oak tree shaking in the wind, and Qrow let him. He let him cling at him so tight it hurt. He let him expend the grief he never got a chance to. He let him take entirely what he needed as hands stroked through hair and fingers gently soothed his back.

“... m'right here.”

It seemed an age until the gentle tone and soft words were enough to help guide the man back from the loss he had drowned himself in. Qrow felt it in the way simple tension began to release from his shoulders. In the way fingers loosened their hold upon his shirt.

The way that ragged breathing began to even out, still hot against his neck.

Qrow nuzzled the side of his head gently, helping him come back up for air. It still surprised him, to feel how calm and grounded he was in the face of this storm. With Taiyang, they had grieved together, both equally shattered in their loss. With the girls, it was always a sunny smile; a distraction for skinned knees, a ruffle of their hair, and they were on their way once more.

This felt more like he was the man's only anchor, and he knew it. So he hung on, letting himself be the purchase on solid ground the man sorely needed.

Clover released a shaky sigh to his shoulder, feeling bone weary. His fingers ached from holding on too tight. His eyes felt hot, his throat too thick. He hated feeling this way.

He gave a soft murmur of sound under the huntsman's gentle ministrations, and he returned the gentle nuzzle, silently letting him know it was better. Not good, and not over, but just... better.

Fingers shifted in his hair, sliding down to curl at the back of his neck, and he drew back in exhaustion, green eyes blinking slowly as if awakening from a deep slumber. He couldn't meet those eyes as the deep note of shame sat heavy in his stomach.

He  _hated_ feeling this way.

Warmth blossomed on the curve of his cheek, lips lingering there for a long moment. As fingers brushed down the column of his neck, Qrow drew back, meeting his glassy gaze.

“...m'so glad I didn't pick you for your looks,” he teased softly. The words struck home, and the smile broke across Clover's face with a shaky laugh, his voice dry and sore. His brow still pinched in unshed anguish, and he reached up to ghost fingers across Qrow's cheek, pressing their foreheads together.

No, Qrow didn't really know how to help someone through their own pain, but he knew what it was like to pick himself up and keep moving. He'd had  _more_ than enough practise with that.

He reached behind him, gathering up a corner of his cloak. “C'mere.” He drew back lightly from the man, gently pressing the corner of fabric to closed eyes.

“Hope you know where that's been,” the words slipped from Clover, earning him a soft laugh.

“Nowhere I wouldn't go.”

The huntsman dropped the fabric, letting it settle behind him once more as he placed his hand to a warm cheek. It didn't matter if he felt scared anymore. Scared of this thing that had grown and grown between them and wedged deep in his heart. It was vastly different from the affection he felt for the girls, that much he knew for certain.

It should have terrified him –  _did_ terrify him – but he also knew there was something much more important standing right before him.

In all the times the operative had gently taken him into his arms, extending simple trust and needling truths, he'd become so blinded to the way Clover's own heart had been hurting. Qrow had led him firmly down this two-way street without even realising it. Yet even if this heavy realisation hurt them both, he found he wouldn't trade it for the world.

The pad of his thumb stroked gently, and he leant in to press a lingering kiss to Clover's forehead.

“Go get cleaned up,” he breathed. “I'll fix us something.” There was a moment of light protest, and Qrow placed his finger to his lips. “No buts. Just believe me when I say that a long, _long_ hot shower is the best thing right now. Gives your head a chance to reset a little.”

The brunet in all his weariness could only hold his gaze for a moment before the quiet sigh slipped from him. He really had no mind to fight the idea; and with each second that ticked over it really  _did_ sound like the best thing ever. He reached up, fingers curling about Qrow's hand to draw him away.

“Alright...” he murmured. “I'll leave something out if you want one later.”

Qrow couldn't help the faint smirk that crossed his lips. “You just want to see me in your shirt.”

Clover gave him a soft laugh as he drew back from him. Something that sounded more like his usual self, and he smiled gently at the huntsman.

“I'll admit... the thought crossed my mind.”

The huntsman wasn't expecting the immediate return of their banter, despite the relief he that filled him upon hearing it. It brought the warmth to his collar once more, and he pushed playfully at his shoulder.

“Go on already. I want to raid your cupboards in peace,” he told him, and Clover padded quietly away from the kitchen, still wearing that warm smile.

Qrow waited there until he heard doors closing and his smile faltered. He reached up, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he released the soft breath he'd been holding deep in his chest. Gods, but his heart hurt. He was weary. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep for another day.

His hand dropped away, leaving him to stare blankly ahead of him. Perhaps that's what Taiyang had meant when he said this kind of thing hurts, but it's always the best kind of hurt.

The faint smile crossed his lips as he moved once more, going about the task of finding them something to eat. It felt kind of strange to think how much time had passed since they arrived in Atlas, yet it really hadn't been all that long.

The days kind of ran into one, but so much had already happened.

So much... had already changed.

Including himself.

His thoughts strayed back to the water tower, earlier that night, and he stilled in his work. Nothing had happened to make him stop dwelling on the realisation; quite the opposite, in fact. He already loved his family with all his heart, and nothing could take that from him.

Now he just had one more person residing alongside them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'alls have no idea how long I've been wanting to post this chapter. The Pietro scene was one that I wanted to do since this whole thing came about. And the whole scene at Clover's apartment? Hoo boy. That whole scene coupled with things that happen in the next chapter are pretty much the main bullet points that I've been wanting to post for yonks.
> 
> Enjoy <3


	11. Dinner And Dalliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a little longer to come out, and that's because my internet died on me, hooray! :D On the plus side, time for more of these two being soft and comforting for one another.
> 
> Very comforting <3

Clover scrubbed his towel through still-damp hair, giving it a final shake and brushing it back with fingers. It settled into its usual tuft as he pulled a plain shirt over his head, and reached for a thin pair of sweatpants, tugging them on and tying them in place.

The heavy sigh drained from him with finality as he ran a hand to the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders a little to free some of the tension from warm muscle. Qrow had been right; physically, he felt a hell of a lot better, even if the hollowness still ached in his chest. He knew from bitter experience that it would be there, nipping at him for a time until it faded back to obscurity once more.

He hated that part of himself, but...

Green eyes stared back at him in the mirror. Maybe that was why he was always so good at helping other people. If he didn't have to focus his gaze inwards, it was always easier to continue on as if nothing was wrong. All until the dam wall broke, and... well...

Brows pinched faintly as he stared back at his reflection.

He didn't hate that part of himself, he knew. Not really. He hated how he didn't know how to  _deal_ with it. About how it simply hit him like a tidal wave and it always crushed him. He'd never given himself a chance to form those kind of attachments, so he never knew how to mourn that kind of loss when they shattered in his hands.

It was probably why he was perfect for the Ace Ops, and all their detachment to the world around them.

The long sigh slipped from him once more, and he drew back from the mirror. No more, he told himself quietly. Dwelling on it would do nothing to help him, or Qrow, for that matter, and he collected his pin from the vanity, walking from the room and tossing it blindly towards the bed.

He stepped out of his bedroom, the most incredible smell hitting him and he immediately perked at it. Walking back to the kitchen, he saw Qrow standing at the stove, quickly stirring the contents of a pan in sharp concentration.

Clover saw the opportunity to slip in behind him, arms snaking about his waist and wringing the faint startle from the huntsman, who glared at him from over his shoulder.

“Hello to you too,” Clover remarked with a lazy smile.

Qrow sighed at him and turned back to his task, scraping the wooden spoon over the base of the pan as he stir-fried the last of the vegetables.

“The single most important part I need to focus on,” he began in faint irritation. “And it's just my luck that you show up to distract me from it.” Clover gave a quiet hum from where he stayed, chin resting on a shoulder.

“Oh, am I a distraction?”

The cheeky words slipped easily from him, with Qrow resisting the urge to give another heavy sigh. Or swat him with the spoon.

“ _Worse_. Here,” he told him, stabbing at a small chunk of vegetable with a fork and lifting it up to him. “That cooked enough for you?” The brunet didn't move from his comfortable place on Qrow's shoulder, and simply leant forward a little, taking the offered bite. His brows went up in mild surprise; the flavour was incredible, not to mention it was crunchy enough for his tastes.

“Perfect,” he replied. The huntsman smiled back at him, sliding the pan off the hot element.

“Good.” He nodded his head towards the other end of the kitchen bench. “Go make us some tea while I dish up.” Clover gave him a breathy laugh, nuzzling the expanse of his neck gently.

“Sir, yes sir...” he murmured, drawing back from him to go boil the kettle. Qrow couldn't help the soft shake of his head as he reached for bowls, scooping both rice and vegetables into them. It wasn't too much, given their early dinner of baked treats, but it was enough to give the guy some leftovers for a little while. Certainly enough to repay a favour.

They ignored the dining table, heading for the spacious couch instead, and Clover tucked one leg under him as he sat. The first smell that had hit him as he entered the kitchen, coupled with the tiny sample he'd been given was enough to have him digging in without hesitation, thoroughly enjoying the rich taste.

“Well? Do I pass the test?” Qrow asked, watching him carefully. Clover nodded almost too enthusiastically, swallowing his mouthful.

“It's good. _Real_ good,” he replied, trying not to look like he hadn't eaten in a week. “Where'd you learn to cook like that?” The huntsman gave a soft laugh, silent satisfaction running through him as he stirred his bowl lightly.

“When I was growing up in my tribe-” He stopped himself, realising what he'd said. “Well. _Former_ tribe. There was always a pretty strong dog-eat-dog mentality in everything they did, despite how communal it all was.” He picked through his bowl, hunting a mushroom that had slipped further down. “And that extended to the kids. We were taught the basics, same as everyone else; after that, it was up to you to survive with what you were given.”

The faint crease of a frown met his words. “That sounds like it was pretty tough.”

Qrow smiled at him, holding up his speared mushroom. “Least I didn't have to  _forage_ for these things tonight,” he replied, earning the soft laugh from the man. “But... yeah, it was... It meant developing skills like cooking, tracking and hunting, fighting of course; basically anything you needed to know to survive on your own. Once you kind of grasped the idea of your own mortality, you learnt to stand on your own two feet pretty quick.”

The quiet sigh slipped from him. “I decided pretty early on that I wasn't going to let anything get in the way of my survival, but... fate has a funny way of ruining your plans.”

He knew it was potentially a bad idea to open up the veritable can of worms that was his history. It was a hole he'd desperately fought to claw his way out of for years and years; to separate himself from all of it, no matter how intrinsically linked with his soul it was.

He also did  _not_ want to stray into anything that might have been particularly heavy for the brunet to discuss, given the way their night had gone so far. The favour to keep topics light had already been extended to him in the past, so it felt right to offer the man the same courtesy, after all.

“Your semblance.”

Clover's voice brought him back and he cursed himself inwardly. Red eyes met his gaze, and he nodded lightly.

“I'd like to hear more about it,” he continued after a beat, wringing mild surprise from the huntsman. “If... that's alright with you.”

Qrow could only stare back at him for a moment, a little caught out by it.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied softly. “I mean... if you're sure.”

Clover smiled softly at him. “No better offers yet.”

Well, now he just had to figure out where to go from there, and he picked through his bowl for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I... was a kid when it started kicking in. Way younger than Oscar, that's for sure. It was... little things here and there – more skinned knees than the others, hammers hitting thumbs when I walked past, people dropping things.

“But... the tribe began to notice a pattern. And they began to notice the commonality was me,” he said quietly. “I got older, and the bigger stuff started happening.”

Red eyes narrowed as he let himself wander down into the memories. Fleeting glimpses of the past that snatched at him as they brushed his shoulders. The angry shouts as something smashed. The dark looks. The curse of his name muttered under their breath.

Hex.

Blight.

_Catastrophe_ .

All words spat to the dirt wherever he walked.

He closed his eyes as the sigh slipped from him, long and quiet. It hurt to dip into the old memories, certainly; but it was an old ache. A bruise already healing, but still felt sore if it was poked.

Or a broken bone, his mind whispered cheekily, and he opened his eyes once more.

“A whole season's worth of crops would die off. People would get hurt or fall seriously ill. Or they'd be hit by more frequent and deadly Grimm attacks.” He paused a moment, taking a few more mouthfuls. “Things that would force the tribe to move; make them more vulnerable. And the cycle... just kept getting worse until I decided to keep my distance from everyone. It... seemed the safest option.

“In hindsight, I guess... it's easy to see why I was picked to go to Beacon,” he added softly. “Nobody wanted _that_ around them for too long...”

All during his soft and halting words, Clover had remained silent, watching him carefully with a faint crease in his brow. He quietly continued to eat as he mulled over the words, though he couldn't stop the narrowing of green eyes. There was obviously a wealth of insight that the huntsman was glossing over, but he felt utterly humbled to be hearing this amount from the man.

It was also exactly as he'd first thought; Qrow's upbringing had given him a lifetime of skill, and forged him in the fires of the worst kind.

Yet despite it all, through all outward appearances, he'd managed to push on. To pick himself back up, time and time again, and press on. For himself, and for his family.

And it made him one of the strongest, kindest people he'd ever met.

Gods, but he  _wished_ Qrow could see himself that way...

The soft laugh met his ears, shaking him back to the present.

“The irony of the whole thing, was that once I started training at Beacon, I began to understand how to work with my semblance,” the smile was on his lips as he dug at his bowl once more. “Of all the things, I can _increase_ it by tapping into my aura. Yeah, _that's_ handy...”

He took another few mouthfuls of food, chewing silently for a moment. “But... there you go. Not the most pleasant start to life, but now you know why I'm such a good cook.”

The sudden switch in tone wrought the soft snorting laughter from Clover, completely blindsiding him. It was a good feeling, he thought; hearing Qrow so easily talk about the darker parts of himself.  _And_ joking about it, too. It was what he'd hoped for since their first conversation.

He'd faltered and hesitated through his words, but he was  _saying_ them. The Qrow from a week ago would have shut him down entirely at such a question.

“Thank you,” he told him softly, green eyes watching him with fondness.

It was warming to see it happen, and he was privileged to be a part of it.

Qrow met his gaze, his own smile faint upon his lips. “...welcome.”

They finished their dinner, chatting easily and laughing together as they sat there, and piece by piece, little by little, they both felt the tension seeping away. The worry for the future would always be there, unspoken, as most morbid thoughts for the future were, yet they both knew well enough to enjoy what they had, now.

The two of them simply enjoyed each other's company, as they always did.

Clover had turned on the television to something mindless after dishes were cleaned and packed away, and they settled further onto the couch. Qrow was leaning against him, all but  _laying_ against him, the brunet's arm slung across his chest as fingers drew idle circles on fabric. The huntsman's own hand rested against a thigh, doing the same.

It was an easy connection with the other, something simple and soft.

At one point, a news bulletin flashed across the screen, and Qrow gave a gentle pat to his leg, excusing himself to go and have that shower. The brunet watched him go before returning to the woman talking about the upcoming election. He bit back the quiet sigh and changed the channel.

He'd been told at one point by Marrow that there was a fine art to channel skipping, but it was a damn hard thing to master when there was nothing he wanted to watch. As it was, he felt himself growing weary as he slowly trudged through a few movie channels, eyelids growing heavy as the day began to catch up with him.

His eyes had only closed for a second –  _just_ a second, no more – when he stirred at the sound of Qrow returning. The huntsman was plucking at the shirt he wore, staring down at it.

“Just how big _are_ your shoulders, anyway?” he asked, holding his arms out for effect and demonstrating the fact it looked about two sizes too big for him. Clover could only smirk lazily back at him.

“You could come over here and find out.”

The matching smirk crossed Qrow's lips as he made his way back to the couch, flopping onto the far end, legs and all, and staring back at the brunet. Clover resisted the urge to sigh at the huntsman; if he didn't know about his history of being a brat, he was certainly learning fast. The man moved towards him, turning on the couch so he could crawl between his legs and lay his back against him, head resting on his chest.

Qrow made a show of being crushed by his bulk, even as he threaded an arm across his chest and drew his knees up either side of the man's waist. “Oof, yeah. Real big shoulders. You're actually killing me,” he coughed. Clover laughed as he crossed his ankles, reaching up to lace fingers together.

“I'm sure you'll survive,” he breathed, turning back to face the television. “If not, well, you've already promised to haunt me.”

The soft hum met his ears. “And a promise  _is_ a promise...” came the murmured response. Qrow let his free hand slip into dark hair, fingertips dragging a light path up to his fringe, and gently sifting through longer strands. His reward was a bone weary sigh as Clover relaxed against him, the faint groan dragging from his throat.

It was all too easy to stay like this, he realised. Just the two of them, sharing the same space and being thoroughly content in the other. Fingers never stilled in their languid ministrations, threading through his hair, and gently repeating the action. It took practically no time at all before they both settled into the softness of the movement, and Clover felt himself being lulled back into that not-so-distant state of dreaming from earlier.

Every so often, the operative would stir at something on the television, but the remote was within easy reach, and as green eyes closed for the last time, Qrow flicked it off. He let it slide silently to the floor as he felt the man's breathing even out, succumbing gently to sleep.

Fingers stilled softly, keeping his eyes firmly on the man as his chest steadily rose and fell. Clover's words from earlier rolled through his mind, and he couldn't help the smile that tugged fondly at his lips from them.

_It was nice... seeing you sleep so soundly..._

He reached up to the man's cheek, hesitating a moment and feeling the warmth of his skin there. Gently, with barely a breath of a movement, he brushed the back of his knuckles against the curve of the man's cheek. Clover stirred faintly with soft touch, burying his face a little closer to the warmth beneath him, as the murmur slipped from parted lips.

Qrow felt something in his chest loosen at the sight, and heat stir in the back of his throat. The whisper of a sigh fell from his lips, seeping into brunet hair, as he placed a featherlight kiss there.

“...I love you too...”

***

The choking cloud cover that blanketed the city lasted well into the night. The air itself held a crisp note that hadn't been seen for quite a few weeks, and the citizens of Atlas knew well enough what it meant. A faint sheen of mist appeared to cling to every surface, but if you were to scrape fingers across it, it would sift off in a soft powder.

The frost followed everywhere the clouds went.

A heavy snow was due to fall upon Mantle, but for those who lived skywards, it was a completely different feeling. The clouds stole your breath away if you weren't careful, threatening to freeze you in your tracks if you lingered too long outside.

In the dim pre-dawn light, the first muted rays of the sun was less than a mere haze, straining to pierce the veil. A faint grey colour settled upon everything, giving the world a melancholy appearance, and leading to thoughts of nothing better than curling up somewhere warm and avoiding it.

An ideal plan, if the world ever stopped moving, and work could grind to a complete halt for once.

Still, the world moved on, and work awaited those who rose with the sun itself.

Penny and Ruby were such individuals, and they charged headfirst into the new day with renewed enthusiasm for life. Winter rose with a languid sigh, knowing it was more than mere duty that kept her greeting the dawn; it was always with the prospect of turning the tide that she faced the day.

Oscar still had the sleeping schedule of his former lifestyle, something that seemed so distant to him now, yet he would always awaken with the sun, knowing there was work to be done.

Others tended to follow on time where they could, though some were a little more tired and little less enthused to do so. Though where normally there would be a familiar smiling face present amongst the earliest risers of the cadets of the Academy, there was an absence. Normally sharp green eyes were not yet to be seen as people began moving amongst the vast hallways.

Though it was hardly noticed, and no one would really blame him. He always worked so hard, they would comment, if they did. Surely the man was allowed to sleep in past the crack of dawn.

Surely he was allowed some measure of peace in this terrible time.

***

Red eyes slivered open, noticing the distinct lack of light in the air. He already knew it was still before dawn; his body clock wouldn't let go of the fact that sobriety meant it was time to be awake.

He blinked languidly, warmth surrounding him like a shroud and making him feel sluggish. He drew a deep breath, filling his lungs and immediately feeling the weight across his chest. Qrow turned his head to inspect it and stilled entirely, suddenly feeling  _ very _ awake.

Clover lay on his stomach flush alongside him, face all but buried against the curve of Qrow's shoulder, with one arm slung across the huntsman's bare chest, sleeping solidly. Bare skin bled warmth wherever it met and the huntsman couldn't stop the quiet inhale at the sight.

His mind scratched for an answer, knowing with complete clarity that they had  _ both _ been wearing shirts the previous night. Was it- Did they both just get too warm during the night? It was pretty warm in here, Qrow reasoned rapidly with himself. Or did he... Fear prickled at the back of his throat and he couldn't stop the bubble of panic that wanted to rise from his stomach.

The immediate reasoning kicked into gear at the forefront of his mind and it left him blinking at the man, unmoving.

His head was clear. The fog he felt was _nothing_ but morning fatigue. It wasn't at all like a hangover. Even then, he wouldn't- He _couldn't_ have _-_ No, no, nothing they had last night even _had_ _anything_ alcoholic in it.

Gods, he was more afraid of doing  _ that  _ to himself than anything else that was currently – or  _ had –  _ happened.

Whatever the reason, it still didn't explain their state of undress, so first thing's first, his mind quipped. He very,  _ very _ carefully, so as not to awaken his bedmate, slipped a hand to the top of the covers. He peeked with all the courage of a man trying to find a lost spider, and he  _ did  _ sigh in relief. Good. Two people. Two pairs of pants.

The sudden realisation made him far warmer than it should have, and heat settled across his throat. It wasn't that he was  _ against  _ such a thing, more that it wasn't something he was prepared to take part in just yet. And Clover, bless his soul, wasn't in the business of pressuring him for anything.

No, Clover felt... different. _Far_ different to anyone else in the past. There was comfort in their closeness without needing to step across a line. The way his heart ached at that thought was more than enough reason for him.

The initial spark of adrenaline began to trickle from him, and he found himself turning to watch the man curled against him. Clover might have called him a heavy sleeper, but the man was proving to be just the same. He reached up, fingers brushing gently across a bicep, simply enjoying the feeling of the other man's skin against his.

It was no wonder he could wander around without sleeves all day; the man seemed to have an internal warmth to him. Maybe that's why he had such big shoulders, and the stray thought brought the smile to him.

Qrow leaned in, lips settling against brunet hair. Despite his initial startle, it was nice to wake up alongside someone. It felt... warm, in a way he couldn't really put his finger on. Like nothing else could take this feeling from him.

A flicker of memory grasped him, and he felt brows pinch faintly, feeling the shade pass across his mood. The night before. And everything... that had...

The vision of Clover, clutching at him, fingers tight enough to hurt as he spilled his grief onto his shoulder. It pulled at his heart in a way that was indescribable. He found himself never wanting to let the man feel that way again, even if he knew it was something well out of his control. Well beyond his reach.

He felt like he'd fight the Brothers themselves to make it happen though.

The faint smile touched his lips at the irony.

He supposed he now knew what Salem felt, once, long ago...

Red eyes glanced up to the expansive window and the dull light of the world it offered. Between the dense cloud and the way frost had stretched across the thickened glass, there was no easy way to distinguish the shapes of the outside world. If it weren't for the fact they both had jobs to do, he'd be more than happy to stay right where he was; the fate of the world be damned.

The sigh fell from him, warming the hair he had buried his face against. At least he knew the coffee here would be better than the barely passable stuff they served at the Academy.

There was a soft movement from the man, and Clover turned his face a little further into the curve of Qrow's shoulder as he stirred. In his haze, he recognised that it didn't feel at all like his pillow, and slivered green eyes open. The huntsman drew back slightly, and the shift of his body brought Clover's gaze up to meet his.

It took a handful of time for his sleep-addled mind to catch up with the sight that greeted him, and the faint smile crossed his lips.

“...morning,” he breathed.

“Barely...” came the soft reply.

That smile only hitched in response as he drew back, sliding his arm away from Qrow's chest to stretch deeply, muscles tightening as a languid yawn overtook him. The huntsman could only offer him a breathy laugh as he rolled onto his side, propping his head up on an arm to watch him.

“You're taking this fairly well...” he told him softly.

Clover finished stretching like a veritable cat and placed his head back on his pillow, smiling up at the other.

“Mm... best dream I've had for a while...” he murmured, the backs of fingers reaching to brush idle circles on Qrow's chest.

The huntsman gave a faint hum at that, idly wondering what kind of dreams the man had if this was a good one. “Oh, you're not dreaming...”

Brows raised in faint surprise and fingers stilled. “I'm not?”

The tone of his words was all innocence and lightness and Qrow couldn't help but laugh softly at him, smile spreading across his expression. He placed his hand to the curve of Clover's cheek, thumb stroking gently.

“Dreams can't do this...”

He leant forward, gently brushing lips together in an unhurried motion. He felt Clover's breath tickle him softly as he sighed against him, fingers finding the curve of Qrow's arm and holding him gently. The man was warm and pliable from sleep, and it was far too easy to drink deep from those lips.

Qrow stroked his cheek gently as he drew back faintly, red eyes watching closed green. It was like Clover was utterly caught in the sensation of warmth still lingering upon him, and his fingers brushed gently at Qrow's arm, the only sign that he hadn't actually slipped back into slumber with the soft touch.

“Might... still be dreaming...”

The faint murmur met his ears as green eyes fixed firmly on his. The huntsman nuzzled him lightly, thoroughly enjoying this languid side to the man as he lay there. He certainly wanted to see more of him like this; the sleepy, vaguely cheeky man instead of the usual persona.

The lazy smirk curled to his lips.

“Is that so...”

His hand slipped from the man's face, forearm pressing gently next to his head to steady him as he moved. One leg slipped over Clover's waist, straddling him easily before fingers were back upon skin, finding the curve of his cheek once more.

They lingered for a moment, both almost content to indulge in this sleepy affection and closeness for just a little longer.

“Like to think I'm better than some dream...” came the almost incensed murmur. All reply was lost as lips sought each other once more. Clover inhaled deeply through his nose, letting it out softly with a quiet groan.

He let his fingers find the curve of Qrow's waist, trailing up along warm skin as his thumb brushed across an angry red scar. His other hand bumped knuckles against his stomach briefly, turning his hand to trace the flat planes of muscle there, mapping out their rise and fall.

It was skin unused to such a gentle touch, and Qrow almost had to fight the urge to jump as fingers bled further up to his chest. Clover continued to draw a line to the hollow of his throat, finding the column of his neck and threading further up into dark hair.

Qrow felt the soft groan spill from him as nails dragged softly against his scalp. Slick warmth traced along his lips and he parted them willingly, heat spilling into his mouth. Gods, but he really could spend the rest of eternity like this...

He slipped his fingers away from the curve of his cheek, tracking the reverse of fingers upon his own skin. Where he was all lithe form and compact muscle, Clover was an impressive opposite; solid and strong, firm under fingertips. Nails scraped lightly on tight abdominals, drawing the sharp inhale from the man, and lips parted from each other, breath hot and short.

Green eyes were firmly on his, and his lips already ached for more. The heady reverie settled thick in the air about them, everywhere skin touched was flushed as they hung there, breathless, caught in the moment.

Qrow was the first to draw back from him, smile easy on his lips as he brushed his nose gently against the man's. The scant space between them was enough to return some of the ability to think to Clover. He let the languidly satisfied smile cross his lips as his head came to rest on the pillow once more, fingers curling down from dark hair as the huntsman sat up slowly.

“Think you might be right...”

Qrow raised a brow at him as hands settled at his waist once more, thumbs idly brushing across warm skin.

“Oh?”

Clover made a soft noise of thought. “Mm... better than a dream...”

The breathy laugh spilled from the huntsman.

“Well... glad you've come to your senses...” he murmured. “Though I hate to be the one to tell you... but we've got work to do...”

The operative drew in a deep breath, letting it out in a quiet groan. Without a word of warning, he kept his hands firmly about Qrow's waist to steady him, pulling himself to sit upright as well. He slipped a hand away, finding the curve of the huntsman's neck with a resigned sigh.

“Duty ever calls...”

A gentle kiss was placed against his lips, something light and chaste, before he drew back with a soft smile.

“Let's go save the day.”

Arms threaded lazily across his shoulders, halting all other movement from the man as Qrow brought their foreheads together with a smirk.

The breath was suddenly stolen from Clover as lips found his in a crushing embrace, hands slipping into his hair and holding him firmly in place. The sudden rush of heat was over almost as quickly as it appeared, and like a thunderstorm passing overhead, Qrow drew back once more.

He nuzzled gently at the man. “ _ Now  _ it's time to save the day...” he breathed against him.

Reaching back for the covers, he shucked them away enough to slip free and he untangled himself from the man, getting to his feet. He gave a deep stretch, arms reaching high above his head and fists curling tight as he arched and twisted lightly, feeling tired joints pop and protest their forced awakening.

“Gonna go get started on some coffee,” he told him easily, walking from the room with a wave over his shoulder.

Clover watched him go, still trying to reboot his faculties past hands and lips and basic motor function. He released the long sigh as he fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling with a lazy smile firmly upon his expression. One arm slung above his head, still attempting to bring himself back down from the high that was... well, all of  _ that _ . He could  _ certainly _ get used to waking up like that.

He was also cursing the fact he had a shower last night, because gods, he was going to need another before they arrived at the Academy.

With another heavy sigh, he pushed himself back up, feet coming to rest on the floor as he sat there for a moment. He stood up, stretching his arms out wide as the muscles along his back tightened briefly.

His brow furrowed lightly as his thoughts began to catch up with him. Memories trickled in, needling under his skin and demanding to be noticed. The quiet breath escaped him as he walked to the window, casting his gaze to the smudged outlines of the city below.

That faint ache was still there, but it sat buried, deep in his chest. Green eyes narrowed at the sensation it left there, but he knew dearly there was nothing that could be done about it except move forward. It was a menace of a feeling when it crept up on him, and he sorely despised how it left him in its sudden absence.

Yet...

He was here. And Qrow was still here. And neither of them were going to give up that easily. Clover was more than certain than anything they'd both fight tooth and nail to see this thing between them survive.

That they'd fight to see the  _ other _ survive.

He ran fingers through his hair, turning from the window and his thoughts to walk to his wardrobe, intent on digging out a fresh uniform, when a glint caught his eye.

The man turned his head to spy his badge upon the bedside table on the huntsman's side, and he couldn't help the amused smile that fell across his expression, sleepily remembering Qrow turning it over it his fingers; rolling it over the backs of his knuckles like a coin.

He really  _ did _ like shiny things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out this absolutely adorable artwork from nobynad based off chapter 6!! This was such a wonderful gift and thankyou so much again for taking the time to make this <3 https://bit.ly/2sVjvSS


	12. - A Note on Chapter Twelve -

I think we can all agree that Chapter Twelve was... oof. I came out of it a complete broken wreck of a person and my trust in what CRWBY do from here is... _really shaky_ to say the least. I'm not ready to step away from the series, but I can say with absolute sincerity that the writing for that episode was some of the most poorly thought out, poorly motivated excuses for wanting to see a fight. Let alone the teams formed during it. Don't even get me started on that.

So.

First and foremost, I _**DO** _plan on continuing this fic.

I've already said as much on my tumblr, but it bears reapeting over here. I started writing this sometime around the eighth of December, and as it stands, I have a further two complete chapters to post once they're edited, plus I've already started work on another. I still have a lot left I want for this story to accomplish, and a lot of ground for these two to cover. This fic started upon seeing Qrow forming what would be his first adult relationship since we've known him in the series, and it grew from a simple need to see him start to rebuild some bridges and heal some scars in his life. He was at a turning point in his life where wounds and habits, addictions and losses were starting to mend. And I really, _really_ hoped that RT wouldn't do the dirty on this very raw and emotional process in such a way that it would send him right back to square one.

But, here we are.

In the time these two had on-screen, there was already a mountain of difference in everything Qrow was doing. His habits had shifted. He was more open with others. He was honest to gods smiling. Clover was making an absolute wealth of difference in his life, whether it was viewed romantically or not. He was the first positive adult presence in his life that... hell, he's probably ever had. And _that_ was what fascinated me so much about their relationship. Clover was an unknown, and he was already making progress in leaps and bounds where others had fallen far short of the mark - or hadn't even tried at all.

Qrow had such a deep trust in this person he'd only known for so little time. It was amazing to see such a positive change in him, after such a simple difference, and especially after so long and going through so so much.

This fic started out as a way to help a character explore that ragged emotional healing process, from both sides of their stories. It was about watching trust form. It was about watching connections, soft and intimate, naturally stem from the closeness they shared. It was about watching them grow to accept this fondness and affection that had quietly slipped into their lives and made a home in their hearts. And it's still going to be.

So no. I am not going to abandon this fic. I am not going to stop writing this.

I am not going to give up on these two.


	13. Heart And Hound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some wholesome discussions! And a blink and you'll miss it sneaky reference, so eyes peeled yo <3

Time trickled on within the twin cities. Work continued. Tenuous connections still withstood as Mantle and Atlas ground closer and closer to the election. In a few short weeks, they would all know just who it was the people truly wished to lead them into the future.

A future that, to a select group, felt as sure and strong as a piece of paper snatched up in a storm.

Ruby never intended to get herself caught up in politics. If anything, it made her head hurt and her heart ache. What point was there to representing your people when you couldn't help everyone? When all they seemed to do was grandstand and squabble?

She had a decent idea when it came to power struggles and fighting, and could only equate it to that, but even then, people always rose up together to fight for the common good. Why then, couldn't it all be as simple as that?

The quiet groan slipped from her as she flicked through the news feed on her scroll, something she'd taken to browsing idly on their journey towards Amity. She knew it was naïve of her to think that way, but... gods, people could be silly sometimes...

“Worried?”

The voice at her side had her glancing up to green eyes. Clover ducked his gaze briefly to her scroll where it sat in her hands. The girl hesitated a moment before sighing again, turning her eyes back out to the tundra they travelled across.

“A little,” she confessed softly. “I mean, I know it's a big step for Mantle, no matter what direction they go. I just... wish there was a way to do it without hurting anyone.”

Her words brought the faint smile to his lips and he relaxed a little into his seat, tapping at his own scroll. Sometimes he wished he could go back to an earlier time in his life, just like her, and be free of everything that made the world such a scary place. Battling Grimm he could do in his sleep; fighting in the world of politics... well, his hands were already dirty from a lifetime of being with the military.

It was relative, with what they'd _both_ endured, he supposed.

“You're not the only one,” he agreed simply. “Unfortunately, it always seems like the big fish in the pond know exactly what the little fish need, and the little fish have no choice but to pick which one of them shelters them best from danger. It's a hard call to make.”

He bit back the sigh on his tongue. “And sometimes it's the lesser of two evils.”

Ruby felt her brow pinch softly, staring down at the little screen. “Robyn... doesn't seem like a bad person though...”

The quiet words slipped from the girl like a breath, and Clover put his scroll away. He knew it was a big topic, but it wasn't as if they didn't have time to kill. And if he could help her understand it a little better, then it was all that mattered.

“She's not.”

Ruby glanced over to meet his eyes.

“She's a good person,” he continued, smiling softly at her. “I'm more than proud that she's standing up for the people of Mantle. Her methods might be... a little blunt. Particularly when it comes to dealing with the Military. But it doesn't ever stop her from doing what is right by everyone.”

He did sigh, ducking his gaze away briefly. “She makes me wish we really _could_ all see eye to eye with each other. I hope she wins. Truly.”

Silver eyes widened slightly. “Oh...” Her soft surprise drew the faint laugh from him.

“Not what you were expecting?”

The soft fluster found her. “Well, no... not really, to be honest.” She reached up, rubbing the back of her neck lightly. “It sounds like you really respect her.”

“Well, Robyn's always stood up for what's right, no matter the consequences. The truth has always been her shield _and_ her sword,” Clover told her simply. “I admire that in a person.”

He tilted his head a little. “And I'm sure I'm not the only person in the Military who'll be voting for her.”

“Are you allowed to tell me that?” Silver eyes narrowed faintly.

Clover winked at her. “Only if you don't tell anyone.”

She laughed softly, closing her scroll and tucking it away. Uncle Qrow had been right; he certainly was easy to talk to. He never seemed to shy away from the hard questions, or shun the teams for their  _very_ different approach to situations. If anything, he enjoyed their input, and relished the chance to work with some incredible new talent.

It didn't stop her from placing her hands on her lap, mulling over the words that sat in the forefront of her mind. The reminder from her sister that she would be spending today's mission alongside both Clover and her uncle and it was a prime opportunity to observe them together.

Uncle Qrow...

The huntsman had been surprisingly smooth whenever Clover's name had been mentioned in conversation, but then again, he was a man with a lifetime of experience on how to keep a secret.

Ruby resisted the urge to sigh. She supposed she wanted to know the truth about them, if there really  _was_ any truth. More than anything, she wanted her uncle to be happy, and if Clover was helping him attain that happiness, then...

Her fingers curled lightly, gathering fabric.

“You two really are related...”

The quiet murmur of words drew her back to the present, and she glanced back up at the operative. He was watching her fondly as she blinked back at him.

“More than once when we've been talking, he'll get that same look on his face,” he explained softly.

She smiled softly at him before glancing over her shoulder to where the huntsman in question napped in the back of the truck. Harbinger lay across his lap, arms loosely folded across his chest and head resting against a crate. The very picture of combat ready.

“He has a lot of stuff in his life to think about,” she answered simply.

Clover followed her gaze, one arm slung across the back of the seat. “That's quite an understatement...” he breathed.

Ruby felt her heart skitter at the tone of his voice and she bit her lip gently. Well, now or never, she told herself.

“It's... actually something I wanted to talk to you about...” she started softly, drawing his eyes back to her. Oh but she couldn't meet that gaze; those green eyes went straight through her. “Not... well... it's not the reason I'm here. I mean... team rotations as they are, and you being on more of the supply runs, it ah... well... Here I am!” she trailed off with a nervous laugh, feeling her stomach squirming. Clover couldn't hide his smile. Definitely related.

She took in a quick breath, steeling her nerves a little, settling the butterflies.

“Do you... like... my uncle?”

There was a handful of time where Clover had to process the words a few times, and he settled on the quiet laugh, confusion running light across his features.

“Well, yes,” he replied simply. “I thought that would be quite obvious by now. He's an incredible huntsman and it's been a hell of an experience getting to work with him.”

A heartbeat of time later and Ruby ducked her gaze back up to him, caught off-guard by his response and surprise touching her expression. As if it wasn't at all what she'd been expecting to hear. He stared back at her, knowing he was missing something in their quiet exchange.

Did he... like...

The penny suddenly dropped with the weight of a boulder and brows went up faintly. Clover sat back slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as realisation crawled through him. She was asking... if he...

“Oh.”

Green eyes drew away for a moment, brushing gently across the truck's console. Now  _this_ was a conversation turn he hadn't been expecting. In a heartbeat, every little word and smile and touch skittered through his mind. Probably not the best time at  _all_ to be thinking of such things, but it help put her words into stark clarity.

He drew in a soft breath, meeting silver eyes once more. He could already see how his realisation had hit its mark. What surprised him though, was the way the question... didn't trouble him. The appearance of it might have felt sudden, but the question itself wasn't. And the answer on his tongue wasn't one he needed time to think about.

“ _That's_ what you mean.”

The words left him in a murmur, and the girl gave him a faint nod, barely perceptible.

“That's... what I mean...”

He ducked his gaze away again, allowing the faint smile to play along his lips. It seemed being blunt really ran in the family, too, his mind quipped. He opened his mouth to reply, but found the words had dried up in his mind. Everything he suddenly wanted to say to that felt too heavy, or like he'd be overexplaining himself, and he wouldn't do that to her. Couldn't, if he tried. Without having to think about it, he knew she'd call him out on the deflection.

Just like he had with Qrow.

He turned his gaze back to the man in question, the smile settling gently on his expression.

“I do...” he told her softly. “Quite a lot.”

Ruby took his simple words straight to heart. Quite literally, as she reached up to place a hand to her chest, letting out the quiet breath she'd been holding. He almost had to wonder if it was from relief or silent shock. It wasn't until she mirrored his own smile that he could tell she was just letting the words settle over her.

“I guess... that explains a few things then,” she began quietly. Clover tilted his head lightly towards her, curious.

Ruby took a moment to meet his keen stare before glancing back at her uncle. The warmth touched her eyes as she lingered on him fondly.

“It... wasn't the easiest time getting here. Heh, understatement, I suppose...” she turned further in her seat, getting comfortable as she folded her arms across the back of it, resting her chin on sleeves. “We all had our struggles along the way, but... Uncle Qrow was... in a really bad place. After everything that happened at Beacon, he's been...”

Memories sifted through her mind in sharp snippets as she lowered her gaze. Oniyuri. Haven Academy. Raven. The train wreck. Ozpin. The farm. Argus. Gods, but she was starting to dislike the snow... The sigh slipped from her as she closed her eyes briefly, bringing herself back to the conversation as she shifted in her seat, tucking feet up underneath the folds of a skirt.

“He hasn't had a chance to catch his breath. Not really. And he might think it's his job to try and protect us, but... it's not. Sometimes I feel like it's the other way around, because...” There was a deep sadness that settled over her, just a quiet shift in her expression, and Clover almost wanted to reach a hand out to her shoulder. He had a decent idea of the cause, yet the words had never been spoken between any of them.

He had an idea they never would be, and that in itself was a dangerous thing.

“Not so long ago, Yang and I thought... we almost lost him for good...”

She saw him now without the veil of frustration and disappointment as he lay on the stairs. She saw that he was hurting. As scared as the rest of them, probably moreso. He'd just chosen the worst way to forget about everything, even if it was just a temporary fix. She had no measure for what it felt like to be betrayed by someone so close to her, but she saw how deeply Ozpin's words and actions had nearly destroyed him.

_I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world._

Ruby felt her brows pinch at those words. Those hollow, hurting words that echoed in her heart. But she had to press on from them, just as he had. Clover deserved to know the truth, certainly, but it wasn't her story to tell just yet, and she'd already chosen which one to tell him. Silver eyes opened once more, and she watched the huntsman sleep soundly.

The soft sound of amusement huffed from her. “Good thing I'm as stubborn as everyone else in my family, because when he told us no, I told  _him_ no. That seemed to shake his tree a little, and I guess it knocked some sense into him.”

Clover gave a soft laugh at that, following her gaze. “He  _does_ need a subtle reminder every so often,” he conceded. Ruby gave him a heavy sigh.

“You're telling me.” However. “But... that was when we stole the airship from Cordovin and finally made our way here. I'm sure you've read the report,” she said, glancing at him with a smirk.

“I think she made a _tiny_ footnote of that around page one hundred and fourteen,” he replied, earning him a soft laugh.

“Wow, she wasn't kidding then.”

“You have no idea,” he murmured in response, brows raising in haunted memories. “But please, go on.”

To Ruby, it still felt like a lifetime ago when they first spoke to Jinn. When they first arrived in Argus. Since they first arrived in  _Atlas_ .

She was sure it felt just as long for her uncle, too...

“After we met you all, and we completed our first mission together, that's when... we first noticed it,” she continued softly. “Yang and I thought it was just the safety of being here, being around people he knew again, not fighting for our lives in the middle of nowhere. You know... he seemed more relaxed, even if just a little. But... something about this time... felt different.”

Her eyes narrowed faintly in deep thought as she mulled over the right words, and Clover couldn't help still his breath for a moment. Of anyone to notice anything first, it would be his family. That was a given. The same applied to people the operative knew as well, and he recalled in startling clarity how apparent it had been to Pietro.

There was a beat of time when that concern passed to other people. Winter, and the General, certainly. His team.

He bit back the sigh on his tongue. Well, whatever happened, happened. And he'd continue on with whatever came his way, just like he'd always done, he realised firmly. At the end of the day, his happiness wasn't based on their decision.

“It was... after your match.”

Clover's mind ran back to that morning with a faint frown, trying to find the pattern. That was... well, it was before the morning they'd both shared that first kiss, even before their talk at the lookout, and now he was  _really_ wracking his brain to find the answer. Ruby saw him go through the motions of his dilemma and she couldn't help but smile softly at him.

“I guess it's a little hard to see if you don't know him all that well,” she told him, explaining gently. “Uncle Qrow tends to keep a bunch of tension in his shoulders, and his smile is... well, never usually like that. And nowhere near that often. He was also... kind of looking at you. Like, a _lot_.” Her expression shifted to a sheepish kind of smile. “And it was... kind of confirmed for Yang when we ambushed you about that noodle place. Sorry.”

Clover's expression softened, and he felt the faint heat sitting in his chest. Ah.  _That_ morning.

“Well. That's...” He stopped himself, not really having anything to say to that. He knew he'd been utterly caught out by the detective's niece. The light laugh spilled from him, and he kept his eyes on Qrow, bright smile on his face and wondering how he'd take _this_ revelation.

Probably the same way he was, most likely.

“So... when I say it explains a few things... that's... kind of what I mean,” she told him softly, haltingly, as she gathered her words. “What... what I'm trying to say is... thank you.”

He stared back at her, letting the words settle over him gently. He knew it was no small thing she offered him, and he smiled warmly back at her.

“It's been too long since we've seen him this happy.”

Clover took no small amount of pride in her words, but he also immediately knew that it wasn't just his doing. No, the largest share of that praise certainly had to go to the huntsman himself. Without him taking the courage and first steps needed to trust someone, to open up to them, to find faith in something he probably thought was dead to him... Qrow was the one that had done all the heavy lifting. Clover was just the one who had helped hold his hand through it all.

“That's all I want for him,” he found himself saying. “Since meeting him, I'll admit, I was curious; we're all told our doppelganger is out there somewhere, and I guess ours just happened to be in opposing semblances,” he gave a soft laugh. “I'd heard a few stories, but... he's something else alright...”

His words caught on his tongue again and he almost cursed his hesitation. Talking to Qrow felt all too easy, but his niece was a different story. He knew without a doubt that she would never scorn or judge him for his words, and especially not his feelings towards the huntsman. Given what she'd already said to him, quite the opposite. Lighter topics were a breeze, sure; hell, he'd probably be able to go back to  _politics_ without breaking a sweat.

Talking with her about the attraction he had to her uncle? It felt like his stomach had turned to stone.

“I'm glad... you can see he's happier. That he _is_ happier,” he continued, simply bulldozing ahead and letting his words roll out as they dared. He brought his eyes up to meet hers. “I suppose neither of us intended for anything to come of this, but... I'm grateful it did. He needed someone, and at the end of the day, if all I can do is make him smile a little more, then that's all either of us want, right?”

A faint nod met his words and he continued on. “Everything that he's shared with me so far – stories of the past, experiences, hell even just downright having someone his own age to talk to; no offence to you and the other teams – I think that's all he's ever wanted. So that's what I was. And things just... naturally progressed from there.”

The silence fell between them once more, and Ruby almost thought he was finished when the quiet sigh slipped from him, and his brow pinched lightly, dropping his gaze once more.

“Even without that, I know we've both enjoyed this friendship. And... more and more I've found myself just wanting him to find his happiness.” He reached up, rubbing the side of his neck briefly. “You're right when you say he has a lot to think about, and I just... want to help him through it. I just want him to know he doesn't have to face any of this alone anymore.”

His words brushed against his memories as he sat there, and he starkly recalled his own words to the huntsman not a week ago.

_Whether it be something as simple as that, or anything else._

Clover found the faint smile grace his lips at them. It really had been... as simple as that...

“I want him to know... he has someone he can trust...”

The quiet hum of the engine met the end of his words and he released his breath from a suddenly tight chest. It was a heavy topic, certainly, but he always knew it would be. Qrow's family were more privy to the darkness in his life than he would ever be. All he really wanted though, was to help Ruby understand his own intentions a little better, and he glanced up at her.

He froze in his place as silver eyes blinked a little too rapidly back at him. The girl, as if realising this, reached up, rubbing at her eyes as the soft murmur escaped her. Clover reached over, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, to which she could only smile warmly back at him, if not a little watery.

“...thank you...” she breathed. “That's all... we've ever wanted for him...”

It was a little awkward between their positions and seat belts, but Clover managed to draw her forward, tucking her into a tight embrace. Her arms clung to him, giving him a firm squeeze. He was warm, she realised somewhere in the back of her mind, and her mind snatched at a fleeting memory of familiarity.

How the strong arms of her father would hug her just as tight, all but burying her to his chest, snuffing all worry from the world about her. Clover was the exact same, and for a handful of time, it simply felt... nice. Good.

It felt like home.

She drew back from him, not daring to let herself get caught up in the fresh emotion that sat heavy in her chest. Reaching up, she rubbed lightly at her eyes once more, allowing herself to come down from the feeling.

“Oh, that reminds me...” she murmured, giving a final little sniff and ferreted about in a pocket for a moment. Ruby withdrew her hand, and offered the contents to Clover. He stared down at it, baulking at the sight as his breath stilled in his chest.

Qrow's rings.

“You're... giving them to me?” he asked hesitantly.

Ruby tried not to roll her eyes at the obvious question. “I mean, yeah.” Silver eyes met his. “Doesn't take a genius to see that he trusts you. And if Uncle Qrow trusts you, then that's good enough for me,” she told him with a smile.

He realised the weight behind her words, and he returned her soft smile gently. Ruby was nothing, if not perceptibly sharp about some things, and they wouldn't be where they were today if it weren't for her assistance. More than that, she would do anything for her family's happiness and safety, so combined with that, he knew she was a force to be reckoned with.

Salem  _really_ didn't know what she had coming.

Clover held out his hand, and the girl let them drop into his open palm. They felt small, light, like something so insignificant, yet he knew they held something so incredibly special at their core.

“Just... make sure you don't lose that one,” she pointed to the plain silver band. He followed her gaze, brushing a thumb lightly over it. It was an unsuspecting little thing, but its well-worn surface spoke of a lifetime of use. Scuffs, little pocks here and there, all sat upon dulled silver.

“He's had it as long as I've known him,” Ruby continued softly, smiling warmly at it. “I know it's something from his days with his team, but... neither he nor dad tend not to talk about that time too much.”

Clover turned it over in his palm with a brush of his fingers, green eyes catching the tiny inscription on the inside. Brows pinching, he held it up to get a better view of it, the abbreviation of the word saint staring back at him, with an ugly gouge in the metal following. A strange place for it to be damaged, he thought idly.

He tucked the thought away, curling the rings into his hand with a faint smile.

“Maybe one day they will...” he told her softly. “Some things take a while to heal.”

He drew his hand back, hesitating a moment before he reached into the lapels of his jacket, tucking them safely inside a secure pocket. Green eyes met Ruby's, and his smile warmed with fondness for the girl.

“Thank you. Really.”

She beamed back at him with a smile that could rival the strongest hearth.

“Welcome.”

On the horizon, high in the sky, their destination broke into view. Amity Colosseum sat like a fishing bobber in the clouds, seemingly frozen in time as sunlight danced across its surface. It was a place of mixed emotions for the girl, and she couldn't help the memories that settled into her as they headed towards it.

On one hand, it was barely a week ago they were all awarded with the one thing they had ever truly wanted; the thing that spurred them to become huntsmen and huntresses for. On the other... it was where things had started to fall apart between their fingers.

The Vytal Festival had marked the beginning of the end for them in a lot of ways. It was something that felt a lifetime ago now...

And yet here they all were once more, striving to protect the very place where it all happened.

Life had a funny way of repeating itself.

Behind them, the sleeping occupant of their truck drew a short breath as dreams snatched at him, oblivious to everything else around him. His brow pinched in a faint turn of his head and fingers tightened on fabric.

The dreams were never the same, but the feeling surrounding them always stayed true. Sometimes he was chasing his quarry, sometimes he was the one running. In some, he fought for his very life to survive. Most of the time, he lost the fight in more ways than one. No matter how they all started, they all finished the same.

Loss always haunted his nightmares.

His breath came shallow and sharp, stuttering, as the soft murmur slipped from him. Qrow curled a little further into himself as the agonising scream tore through his mind. Too late, too late, he was always too late...

Cold fear clutched at his chest as he stumbled through the darkness, Harbinger lay ripped and broken from his fingers as tendrils the colour of pitch slithered about his ankles like deadly cobras. Talons, long and spindly, pricked at his legs as they clawed their way up, digging deep into flesh and dragging him down to his knees. He wanted to thrash out, to wrench free from them, but found his strength sapped and his voice smothered as they lashed about his limbs, holding him firm.

From the distance, he saw it coming, lumbering towards him in a lazy gait. Piercing red eyes the colour of burning embers met his own as arms shot forwards, stretching out grotesquely long, elongated fingers wrapped about his neck, wrenching him closer.

Skeletal jaws parted wide, too wide, that same horrendous red glow searing from within. That inhuman scream blanketed his senses and the tightness of tendrils about his chest wrung the breath from him.

Squeezing, squeezing, it would be so easy to give up...

So easy, so easy...

So...

From his lap, Harbinger slid to the floor with a dull thunk, and the sharp inhale of breath tore from him, shoving him harshly back into the waking world. Red eyes blinked rapidly as his chest still heaved in fear, darting his gaze about him.

Truck. Amity. He was on his way to Amity with a supply run.

He was...

He was safe.

Qrow drew a steadying breath, reaching up to run a shaky hand across his eyes as his heart thudded behind his ribs. He swallowed through a tight throat as he reached for Harbinger once more, needing to feel its weight in his fingers, letting his breath out in a slow exhale.

His hand settled across his mouth as he stared unseeing in front of him, brows pinched tightly. For as long as he lived, he hoped to gods he never had to see those eyes again. Those eyes that heralded his deepest decent into a downwards spiral and nearly his most dire loss.

His title as a huntsman was nothing but a joke if he couldn't see all the signs before him. Particularly so when all it took was a niece who refused to give up, and one calm little old lady to completely undermine his skills and intelligence.

Red eyes narrowed faintly.

How could he have been so  _blind_ to them...

The weary sigh fell ragged from him as he ran fingers across tired eyes once more, sitting bonelessly back against the crates. He  _hated_ waking up like that. It always left him jittery, like a caffeine hit gone wrong. Qrow dropped his hand to his side, casting a glance to the front of the truck. Still moving then.

The sight of nothing but mountains before him told him they were off the tundra at least.

Getting to his feet, he slid his weapon back into place and made his way silently to the other two occupants, hands resting on the back of the seat as red eyes tracked the scenery before them.

“How much longer?” he asked through a dry throat.

Ruby startled at the sudden appearance of the huntsman, and she whipped her head around to glare at him.

“Uncle Qrow, don't _do_ that!” she scolded lightly with a thwap to his arm. He gave her a sleepy smile, ruffling her hair in retaliation.

“You _always_ jump though,” he told her bluntly as he was swatted away. Clover could only smile at them as he glanced out the windscreen once more.

“You woke up just at the right time. We're about three clicks from the mine,” he explained, withdrawing his scroll. “Should be there in-”

Qrow glanced down at him as the man fell silent before following his gaze down to his scroll. An update to their mission sat on the screen and he raised a brow at it.

“They couldn't just call it in?”

Clover tapped it open, rapidly skimming what it said. “I don't think so...” he murmured. “It's nothing but an added patrol since Grimm have been sighted in the surrounding mountains.” The words didn't sit right for the huntsman and he drew back to mull over them.

Red eyes still sat fresh in his memory and he frowned in response. No, there was no need to dwell on  _that_ particular nightmare ever again. The faint murmur of sound slipped from him.

“Something feels off...” he breathed. “You've got Military personnel on the ground around the clock, and they can handle pretty much anything that comes their way – why would they need us to do an extra patrol while we're here?”

Clover rolled his words around in his head. Surely it was Qrow simply overthinking things, but... he couldn't dismiss his line of thinking. He also didn't want to think of it as nothing more than Misfortune talking for the huntsman.

“We'll scope it out once we arrive,” Clover told him as he tucked his scroll away. “Until then, we stick to completing our main objective.”

Qrow almost wanted to debate the fact, even if the man's logic was sound; no point in thinking something was amiss because of a few bad dreams. He sighed and folded his arms across his chest.

“Alright, sounds fair,” he replied. Clover smiled faintly back at him, resting an arm against the back of his seat and meeting red eyes.

“Don't worry; if it's just an update to our current mission, it won't be Grimm in the numbers we first saw. If it was, they would have _certainly_ called it in. So I'm not counting on any surprises there,” he explained.

“And if there are any surprises, we'll just deal with it the way we usually do,” Ruby added. “Besides, it's like you said; there's already people here, and they can fight just as well as we can. I mean, that's their job. It's probably just a _teensy_ little Grimm problem.”

Qrow levelled his nonplussed stare at her. “Yeah, and I know the size of your  _teensy_ little Grimm problems, kiddo.”

She stared up at him all sweetness and innocence. “And you're always there to save me from them,” the sugary sentence dripped from her and Qrow stared flatly back her for a handful of seconds. He placed his hand to her face, shoving her away lightly, though couldn't stop the smirk from tickling the corner of his lips as she flailed at him. Clover stifled the soft laugh at the sight.

Definitely related...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: when Clover mentions the page of Cordovin's report, that's what it's up to in the fic :D
> 
> PS, if you missed the reference, just think on what Qrow's team was called as Clover looks over his rings <3


	14. Sabyrs And Snowballs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some fun! Ruby Rose style :D

The lieutenant snapped a sharp salute as he turned away from Clover, heading back to his post. Lowering his hand from his own salute, the operative bit back the sigh on his tongue, glancing back to his makeshift team as the wind dusted powdery snow about their feet.

“Well, it's nothing serious,” he told them as they approached, letting the AK-200 unload the rest of their cargo, ready for transport. He brought up a holographic map of the area on his scroll, pointing to the eastern side. “Grimm have been sighted advancing through a nearby trail in the mountains, just south of Aurora Pass, and they're getting pretty bold about it; they've already lost a couple of AK sentinels closer to that side of the outpost this morning.

“But, because of the terrain and unknown numbers, they don't want to risk sending what little troops they have in there to flush them out. It's a tight squeeze of a trail, so no vehicles are allowed in, and communication's not the best in there, which rules out the AKs.”

Ruby's brow furrowed. “They can't just block it off?”

Clover conceded the point with a light shrug. “They could, but it makes a good escape route, if things go sour towards the north.”

“They'd have to go _really_ sour if they plan to use that as an escape route,” Qrow commented, eyes following the incredibly windy track on the hologram. The brunet gave a faint smirk as he tucked his scroll away, the wind cutting across them once more, stinging exposed skin.

“Luckily they sent the message to me.”

Qrow reached up to rub his arms lightly, refusing to bite at the words. He chose instead to shake his head lightly, sighing against the gusting wind.

“Let's just get this over with and get somewhere warm,” he told him. “At this rate, _both_ my wings are gonna freeze off.”

It took a handful of seconds before Clover released the bright laugh at his words, Ruby only groaning at his pun, even if she didn't realise the significance of it. Clover reached up, giving a simple pat to the huntsman's shoulder as he smiled at him.

“I'd say we've got about two hours before this weather gets worse, so let's make the most of it.”

“Alright!” Ruby cheered. “First one to kill a Sabyr wins!” And with that, she had Crescent Rose in hand, happily leading the charge towards the trail. Qrow gave a heavy sigh at her, smile softening his expression. She was going to be the death of him one day...

The two trailed after her, heading towards the base of the mountains where the path started. If there had been any obvious signs of a nearby struggle, it had long since been covered over by the snow that blew about them. Further in would be a different question, and keen red eyes were already looking about the walls of the jagged cliffs.

The path meandered this way and that, and Qrow could already see why it would be a tough place to clear out. It was wide enough for a vehicle, sure, but making some of the turns would be a nightmare, especially if they were in a hurry. His eyes narrowed faintly; it really was a last-ditch escape route.

Ice crusted the rocky surface, and what little plant life struggled to grow was thin, feeble, and barely a weed. The path itself was clear, and they didn't need to be overly careful with their footing; the day, too, was still fairly bright, as the sun reflected down to them, occasionally ducking between the clouds to offer them some small solace. Yet nothing could help with the wind.

The walls almost acted like a natural funnel, and any piece of clothing that wasn't secured down was whipped about like an errant flag. Ruby had to keep her eyes narrowed, lest a lock of hair sting her face too harshly, or flick into silver eyes.

The further they walked, the better it seemed to get, and the wind carved its own path skywards, where there was less resistance. It was better for travelling, but it still left Qrow with the feeling they were heading straight into the proverbial lion's den. His eyes still scoured the walls of the rocky surface, and down at their feet, hoping – or not hoping, as was the case – to find any sort of evidence that Grimm were about.

“She's a sharp one, your niece.”

The soft comment from Clover caught his attention, and he raised a brow at him. The brunet flicked his gaze back to the girl leading them, her weapon held ready in her hands and silver eyes mimicking the same path as her uncle.

“We talked on the way here,” he explained quietly.

“That's a dangerous conversation starter...” Qrow commented absently as red eyes continued to track for signs about them, earning him a soft laugh.

“No, nothing that dire. She's been trying to keep up with the election, and I helped give her a bit of a local insight to it,” came the simple words. “Robyn's a good person, and I hope Ruby came out of it knowing that I feel the same way as her.” The wind gusted here and there, but nothing that would snatch their conversation away or carry it towards the girl in question.

Qrow kept his arms hugged around himself, trying not to shiver. “Politics can be a messy game.”

“You're telling me,” the brunet smiled to himself. “We also talked about you.”

“Remember what I _just_ said about dangerous conversation starters?” Qrow smirked at him. Clover held up his hands in defence.

“Your reputation is still intact, don't worry.”

His words died on his tongue as he stared ahead of them, further up the path. He knew what he wanted to say, and it took a moment to put everything in the right order. The huntsman could only guess as to what his silence meant, and he rubbed his hands lightly along his arms.

“She, and by extension, her team... know about us.”

It was spoken so simply, so softly, and it still hit Qrow like a truck to the chest. He dead stopped where he walked, widened red eyes darting between the brunet's. Clover seemed to be expecting the reaction, and he placed a hand to his shoulder, smiling warmly at him.

The huntsman wanted to know dearly how he could be so damn calm about  _that_ kind of revelation.

“And she's happy about it.”

_That_ drew him to another stop entirely and he snapped his gaze over to his niece, some hundred paces ahead of them. She was utterly oblivious to the happenings behind her, so focused on her task of tracking Grimm. As if this very conversation hadn't surprised her, or sent her off-kilter somehow.

As if she'd been thinking about it for some time now, had accepted it, and moved forward with it.

She knew and she had just taken the news in stride.

“How... long?”

The short stutter of a whisper tore from him like a curse, unable to keep his eyes off her. Clover almost had to sigh at him, knowing he was concerning himself with a molehill.

“According to Ruby, they all noticed it sometime after our match.” Red eyes darted back to his, confusion evident in their depths. The brunet gave him a light shrug. “I had the same reaction, too. But apparently these kids have got better eyesight than the two of us,” he added with a soft laugh. When it became clear to the man that Qrow seemed to have sputtered to a screeching halt in light of this news, he gave a faint sigh, almost wanting to shake his head at him.

“She told me... that all she's ever wanted for you was your happiness; that she wants nothing more than for you to find it,” he told him softly. “She didn't have to go into details for me to understand why.” A beat of time passed and his fingers gave a faint squeeze. “Though... I'm pretty sure I made her day when I said that's all I ever wanted, too.”

He patted his shoulder a couple of times before following after the girl, walking backwards with his arms spread wide.

“But she's right; you're not carrying as much tension in your shoulders lately,” Clover told him simply with a smile, turning around once more.

Qrow watched him go, blinking at him as the whole scene replayed in his mind. Ruby...  _knew_ . And she was okay about it. And she was happy for him... Yang knew. And probably the only reason he hadn't been teased mercilessly by her was the fact that Ruby and the rest of the team had forcibly removed her from her scroll.

The quiet sigh slipped from him, and he reached up to run fingers through his hair, letting the sudden knot in his stomach begin to fray.

It didn't... feel as bad as he thought it would.

Not really.

He dropped his gaze to the snow, letting the revelation settle over him. Alright. So they were doing this then. The warmth spread to his collar and the faint smile made its way to his expression as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

It still didn't stop him from giving a huff of a sigh as he began walking forward again.

“...I do _not_ carry tension in my shoulders...” came the bitter mumble as he kicked at a small rock on the ground.

Powdery snow gusted from his feet and he almost missed it in his haste; nearly stepping on it instead. Another small chunk of rock lay broken off the cliff edge, lightly dusted with fine snow. He knelt down to pick it up, the wind collecting the white once more and he gave a low murmur; it was freshly broken, going by the lack of ice on one side of it.

He glanced to the side of it, spying the half-buried twisted scrap of metal and he narrowed his eyes at it. Well, he'd found a chunk of their destroyed AKs...

Red eyes cast up to the rock face, and he smoothed fingers over it as he stood, the sunlight fading behind another cloud momentarily. It wasn't until about shoulder height that he felt the newly ragged edge of stone and he frowned. A vertical gash in the rock face. Brow pinched lightly; so it was a decent sized Grimm. Sabyr or Beowolf maybe? The damage had come from either fangs or claws – trying to dislodge the metal most likely. It didn't look territorial; the placement was all wrong.

He let the stone fall to the ground as he jogged forward lightly, making to catch up with the others.

“Hey, we're coming up on something,” he told Clover as he approached. “Where's Ruby?” Green eyes glanced back at him, letting him fall into step next to him.

“Still only a little ways up. What'd you find?”

“Signs of our Grimm. Definitely from the last day or so,” he told the man. “Could be Sab-”

A single shot rang out, echoing through the vast canyon, and the two were already taking off towards it. A second shot, third, and the sounds of a blade singing through the air was all they needed to unfurl their weapons.

“ _Ruby!_ ”

They rounded a corner to a relatively straight point in the path, seeing the girl sniping through several rapidly approaching Sabyrs, slashing deftly through ones that broke past her defence.

“Ha! I won!” she cried happily, twirling Crescent Rose back around to its sniping position, blade stabbing into the frozen earth. Qrow shot past her, sweeping through two more Grimm with Harbinger, turning to face her through their ghostly dissipations.

“Oh yeah? What were we fighting for?”

A bullet sang across his shoulder, hair blowing back in it's wake as it socked another square in the forehead.

“You're buying us all lunch when we get back, duh.”

“I did _not_ agree to that.”

“I don't make the rules, Uncle Qrow!” she replied happily, streaking past him in a flourish of red, whipping up snow in her wake. Clover jogged past him, slapping his shoulder as he went.

“Let's get to work!”

Qrow couldn't help the smirk as he watched them tear into the first small wave. “Time to warm up a little,” he breathed to himself, taking off after them.

The structure of their surroundings made it somewhat easy to see where their enemies were coming from. Hell, it was really only from one direction that they all funnelled through, and it was easy work. Ruby darted through them all in a blaze of red, limbs dissipating into smoke as she shredded a line between the Sabyrs. Qrow followed after her, carving deep scores through the ones she missed, Harbinger twirling deftly in his fingers.

One leapt above all the chaos, diving directly for him, fangs intent on a kill, before being yanked harshly to the side. It flew through the air towards Clover, who whipped Kingfisher back to retract it fully, used both hands to stab upwards at the falling body; the barbed hook acting like a vicious dagger as it struck true. Another barrelled towards him and he leapt backwards, unfurling his weapon as it shot past him and flinging the hook towards it.

With a sudden jerk on the line by his hand, the hook faltered in its trajectory, collecting about the Sabyr's neck and whipping tight around it, wrenching it to a stop. The blast of buckshot rang out next to Clover as Qrow easily dispatched it.

Clover gave a softly satisfied sound at it, and they both took off towards the rest of the pack. Sabyrs fell into dust as they ran between them, Ruby having taken a vantage point further up and sniping them with ease.

One leapt towards Qrow, who dropped to his knees in a slide, raking Harbinger along it's exposed underside as he arched himself further back from wicked talons.

He wasn't counting on the second one immediately behind it, and in his vulnerable position, could only brace his weapon between them as the Grimm smashed down on him. He was shunted backwards in the snow, leaving a deep score in the powder; cold rock tearing against his back with a strained grunt as the breath was crushed from him.

“Uncle Qrow!”

The sharp cry rang out as he kept his arm braced against the flat of his blade, pushing against the creature's bulk as fangs parted around Harbinger and teased against skin with foul, hot breath in his face.

Red eyes were distracted in a heartbeat, as the indicator light on his cuff suddenly winked green at him, and the dull red upon his arm faded out. He ground out a laugh at the incredible sense of timing, and reached back with his now healed arm, punching the Sabyr full in it's shaggy stomach.

The creature wrenched it's head back and howled in pain as he did it again, right as a taut line whipped about it's upper jaw, wrenching tight and holding it fast as a bullet tore through it, landing next to Qrow's head in a puff of powdery snow. He couldn't turn away in time, catching a fine spray of snow and gravel chips to exposed skin.

“Sorry!” Ruby called as she darted back into the fray once more.

Qrow got to his feet with a huff, wiping the snow from the side of his face and glancing down at his now healed arm. He gave it a few experimental twists and turns, clenching fingers into a fist. Now _this_ he could work with.

“Hey, you alright?” Clover's voice drew his gaze to him as he stopped alongside him.

“Nothing I can't walk away from,” he replied with a smirk. “Let's finish this.” Clover matched his smile and they darted from their place, cleaning out the rest of the pack.

They whittled them down one by one, carving lines through their numbers with ease. Ruby took her last two out with a deadly volley of shots, leaving Qrow to slice through another. A Sabyr ran full tilt at him from behind, bellowing loudly, and he met it with braced feet, letting it slam against the flat of his blade, pushing him back.

High above them in the sliver of dim sky a booming screech tore through the air, reverberating along the walls of the path and dislodging pockets of snow to the ground.

Qrow stilled in recognition, turning wide eyes skywards for a moment. The Sabyr before him drew back for another swipe and in the time it took him to whip Harbinger back, the sharpened end of a harpoon speared out from the creature's mouth; Qrow jerking his head back in surprise as the pointed tip stopped a few scant inches from his face.

Clover had taken the opportunity to finish it for good, offering a brief one-shouldered shrug to the huntsman by way of apology. Red eyes frowned at the operative.

“I thought you said it was just a few straggling Grimm,” he said to Clover, tactfully ignoring the way the man nearly took his eye out. The brunet was shaking his head lightly, also trying to trace the path of that harsh cry with brows furrowed.

“It _was_ ,” he replied, retracting Kingfisher in his hand and clipping it to his belt once more.

At his words, an immense shadow passed through the haze of cloud, it's silhouette blotting out the light along the path momentarily. All three of them stared up at it in surprise.

“That's a gods damned _Nevermore_...” Qrow breathed, eyes wide as that terrible scream tore through the air once more. It was circling, picking up on the faint pricks of life as the Grimm beneath it were snuffed out one by one.

“Well, we can't leave it,” Clover told them both, drawing red eyes to his as they both nodded.

“Ruby, head topside – _stay out of sight_ ,” he told her firmly, and with a brief nod, she was already darting up the rock face in a flourish of red. He rounded on Clover, already taking a few lengthy steps back from him. “Gimme a boost.”

The operative nodded as he caught his meaning, lacing his fingers together and bracing himself as Qrow shot towards him in a sprint. The brunet caught his foot deftly in both his hands, heaving him skywards, and in a scattering of black feathers, the raven carved upwards into the air. Clover watched him go with a faint smile as fingers reached up, snatching the last of those falling feathers.

“It sure would be nice to know how to fly...” he murmured to himself, turning it over in his fingers before letting it drop free once more, flicking Kingfisher's hook up to start the somewhat slower ascent.

Higher up above the cloudline, where the sun broke across the mountains, the streak of red came to a stop upon a short plateau, tucked behind an icy chunk of rock. Silver eyes followed the lazy arc of the Nevermore as it wheeled about, searching for it's target. It could sense life and there had been a flicker of panic deep in the crevasse below it.

That was enough for it to want death.

Ruby gave a quiet grimace as she clutched fingers about Crescent Rose. She didn't want to pull the thing's attention just yet; not without backup. And if it was still heavily distracted by where they all once were, then it wouldn't be heading towards the Arena or the mines.

Even if the extra numbers of the Military would make it easier to take it down.

The shiver suddenly tore through her as the wind spiked up again; up here, exposed to the elements, it whipped about, collecting hair and loose clothing again, chilling her to the bone. Her cloak was gathered by it, snapping this way and that before settling again. They'd have to settle this quickly before they all froze to death.

There was a fleck of black that shot into the air behind the creature, and she narrowed her eyes as the raven wheeled higher into the sky, almost blustered about in the wake of those immense wings. It managed to get above the massive Grimm before changing directions, plummeting towards it in a vicious dive.

A heartbeat later, the huntsman appeared, Harbinger clutched tight in his hands and Ruby drew a short breath. So much for waiting, she thought, taking off towards it in a blast of red petals.

Qrow released a sharp yell as he slammed the curved blade deep into the creature's back, right where it's wings met. The Nevermore shrieked at the sudden pain, wings dipping as it lost altitude. With a harsh beating of wings, it attempted to throw off it's attacker, rolling in the air, to which Qrow hung on dearly, one hand fisting tight into dark feathers and Harbinger tearing further at flesh.

Three shots rang out, smacking off it's armoured face and drawing it's attention back to the spot of red upon the side of the mountain.

It gave another screech of fury, wings snapping back as the monstrous creature began to dive for the girl. Shots continued to ricochet and careen off it's face as it bore down on Ruby, talons outstretched and ready to shatter the tiny thing against the rock.

A barbed hook screamed towards the creature from across the vast crevasse, snapping about one of those legs and wrenching taut. Clover stood next to an outcropping of rock with Kingfisher's line wrapped around it, one leg braced upon it as he heaved back, rod bowing impossibly as he attempted to keep everything in place.

The effect was immediate.

The Nevermore's leg snapped back, cartwheeling it forward out of the dive, and the momentum from it's bulk sent it crashing straight down into the side of the mountain in a thunderous boom that echoed about the very sky. Snow and rock and a streak of red was flung skywards, the former ghosting about the edges of it's body like a veil of mist as it screamed in pain.

Ruby had taken to the air, shooting directly up and out of harm's way. She was stuck in a moment of weightlessness before gravity snatched at her once more, and she bore Crescent Rose straight upwards, delivering a rapid volley of shots and propelling her faster towards the fallen Grimm.

With a vicious cry, she pivoted sharply in the air, spiralling towards it with blade outstretched like a buzzsaw. She dropped into it's neck with the force of a comet, crushing it against the side of the mountain and tearing through dark flesh.

Wings gave a terrified beat, frenzied against the agony that rocketed through it's body, sending billowing plumes of snow about it, blinding Clover from seeing anything about it for a handful of time.

Green eyes searched the cloud as it began to settle. When he last saw Qrow, he had still been on it's back, yet he had no doubts he knew when to move. It didn't stop the worry from pricking at the back of his mind. Ruby, too; she'd landed at ground zero with the force of a bomb.

It was a wonder it hadn't set off an avalanche with the massive impact.

The swirling cloud of snow began to mingle with something the colour of dark ash, before slowly dissipating back into a pristine white, settling back to where it once lay. The small figure stood at the centre of it, her weapon held aloft in victory. He swore she was jumping up and down in pure joy.

“...we _did it_..!”

The faint cry sailed to his ears across the immense gap separating them, and Clover couldn't help the relieved smile that broke upon his face. He began the task of unlashing Kingfisher's line from the rock, retrieving it smartly back into the reel. With a quick twirl of the weapon, it retracted in his hand, and he secured it against his belt once more.

There was a faint crunch in the snow nearby, and he glanced back at the huntsman as he landed next to him, the wind carrying the last scattering of black feathers with it. Qrow collapsed Harbinger in his hand, tucking it back in place as he wandered towards the operative.

“Gotta say, you Atlas folk sure know a heck of a way to warm up out here,” he commented simply.

Clover smiled back at him, one hand settling on his hip. He had long since accepted this whole... raven thing of Qrow's, but it still surprised him how fast and silently it allowed the huntsman to travel. And he'd have one of those feathers one of these days. He reached forward with his free hand, catching the huntsman's jacket and pulling him in a little closer.

“You know... they say huddling together out in the snow is the best way to stay warm,” he told him, his other hand joining the first, hands ducking into the folds of his jacket and settling on the huntsman's hips. “Or is that not in your list of survival skills?” Qrow gave a faint laugh at that, returning the soft smile.

“Funny... I thought it was a quick jog...” he replied, hands slipping over the man's shoulders to lace fingers together behind his head. “Helps to wake up the senses.”

The brunet gave a soft laugh at the memory, brows raising faintly. “You  _still_ haven't forgiven the General for that.”

“I refuse to out of principle.”

Fingers tracked further up underneath Qrow's jacket as the breathy laugh brushed against his lips. He felt so warm against him, and the huntsman nearly shivered at it, knowing the natural heat from the man was the only thing helping to fight off the cold nipping at his skin. It had nothing at all to do with the way fingertips dragged firm and sure along his ribs, ducking back to his spine, and lips brushing against his own.

Nothing at all to do with that.

“Gonna need to be careful,” he murmured against those lips, nuzzling against him softly. “Or else we might get see-”

Snow smacked into the side of his face, catching him completely off-guard. A heartbeat later, the snorting laughter tore from the girl nearby, and red eyes glared death at her as the wet clod fell free. Ruby had all but doubled over, holding her stomach as she pointed at her uncle, scarcely able to contain herself.

“You- You should see-” Another round of shrill laughter. “Uncle Qrow! Your _face!_ ”

“Oh I'm gonna _murder_ you, kiddo...” he ground out, pulling free from the warm embrace to hastily scoop the snow at his feet. He pitched it sharply at her and she shrieked as it nailed her right in the face.

“How you like _that!_ ” he cried triumphantly. His victory lasted but a second as another snowball smacked him square on the back of the neck, and he whipped his gaze back to Clover in utter betrayal. “Oh _you_ -!” His words were cut off as Ruby socked him with another handful of snow and he couldn't stop the laugh from tearing free as the girl launched himself at him, tackling him back into the snow.

They scuffled about in the cold, Ruby shrieking with giggles as Qrow stuffed a handful of snow down her collar, only to cop a fistful of it to the face. Clover could only laugh at the sight of uncle and niece wrestling about on the ground like frenzied puppies, clods of snow flinging everywhere, and he felt like he could barely breathe with the mirth that tore from him.

That was, at least, until hands grabbed both of his ankles and he stared down at Ruby, grinning like the devil herself as she held him firm. Qrow snatched up a sizeable handful of snow as he got to his feet, red eyes locked fiendishly to green, and Clover could only hold out his hands in defence as he was turned upon.

“No no, no-!” he pleaded with him, even as the laughter overtook him. Qrow swiped away his feeble defence as he sunk the fistful of snow down the back of the man's collar, mashing it firmly in place on the way down. Clover writhed as the icy cold sensation travelled down his spine, arching away from it before he lost his balance entirely and fell back into the snow.

Laughter overtook them all, bright and easy. Something that had been sorely missing from all their lives for so long. It sang out about the mountains, and even the sunlight joined them as it trickled across the surface of the clouds to shine upon their joy.

Ruby propped her chin up on her hand from where she lay, the other wiping the tears from her eyes as she still giggled softly to herself. Qrow had dropped himself down into the snow, reclining back on his hands with the broad smile on his face, watching Clover where he had collapsed, breathless on the snow. All three of them were barely getting their breath back from the mirth that ripped through them.

Qrow could understand; Clover too, to a degree. The snow had always been a place where age was timeless. Once the first snowball was thrown, it didn't matter who you were – there was always retaliation, swift and harsh and the loser was always thrown to the ground in a flurry.

Ruby had always lived her life by a code of joy, and Qrow was glad to see his niece hadn't had the experience tarnished by everything the snow had offered her in this short time.

He never wanted her to have so many bad memories that she just wanted to forget it all.

“Oh, Uncle Qrow, your arm's better!”

The words brought him back to the girl and he sat forward again, glancing lightly at his now healed arm, no sign of the dull glow that once settled about it. In the rapid rush of both the Nevermore and their mirth, he'd forgotten about it entirely. It had just felt so natural to him to return to his corvid form that he didn't think twice about it.

“Yeah, it came good in the middle of all those Sabyrs,” he explained, fingers reaching for the two small cuffs, fiddling with them for a bit before twisting them off. He'd have to return them to Pietro soon, and... maybe give him a bit of an update. The thought brought the faint smile to his lips as he stuffed them into his jacket pocket.

“Lucky timing.”

The words had him shaking his head at the man as he met green eyes, and he resisted the urge to sigh at him as he reclined in the snow.

“Don't you dare start,” he ground out, but his voice held no venom, and Clover could only laugh softly back at him.

“Well, I can promise you, it wasn't me,” he said, pulling himself upright once more. His back still felt wet with the melted snow that stuck to the inside of his jacket, and he rolled his shoulders, trying to dislodge the sensation. “I had my hands full at the time. Though speaking of Grimm, we should probably start heading back and report in.”

He reached for his scroll, tapping it a few times as the light frown crossed his face. He turned to glance off to the side, eyes scanning the sky and the clouds that hung scattered behind the mountain, scrutinising everything he saw.

“We... should _really_ get going,” he told them softly.

“Is the weather changing?” Ruby asked in concern, silver eyes following his gaze.

“Not by much, but... it's enough that we shouldn't stay exposed out here for too long,” he explained. He stood up and brushed himself down as he swept a hand towards the darkest patch of cloud to the north. “That dense cloud is probably carrying the most snow, but look at the colour of the base of it, and the surrounding ones. That's... not something we want to face in the middle of the open tundra.”

Ruby got to her feet, dusting the lingering snow from herself. “Alright, then let's get going.” Hands settled on her hips as she smirked at the operative, Qrow getting to his feet beside her. “If we want to make it back in time for lunch, how about I give you a boost?”

Clover raised a brow at that. “A boost?”

The huntsman folded his arms across his chest, smug smile firmly in place. “Oh, I think he wants the boost.”

“I think I want to know what I'm signing up for.”

“You've got a good landing strategy, right?” Ruby pressed, leaning towards him.

“Generally, yes, but I-”

“If that's the case, just don't throw up on the way down,” Qrow gave him a simple wave as he turned away, wandering idly in the direction of the mines. Ruby beamed up at the operative as she held her arms out to him, the raven launching into the air behind her.

“Alright, time for a hug!” she told him brightly. Green eyes widened at her, barely raising his hands in mild defence before she'd burst towards him in a flourish of red petals. The wind snapped around him and the snow whipped up where they once stood, and in the blink of an eye, the streak of red took to the sky, rocketing in an upwards arc towards the mines.

If anyone at their post had cast their eyes skywards, they would have seen the faint speck of what could have been a flare hurled for all it's might into the clouds. It rose higher and higher, ever curving towards the outpost.

At the height of its arc, there was a burst of petals, snatched away by the wind, and Ruby laughed gleefully to herself as she was seized by gravity and pirouetted in the air, spinning Crescent Rose into her hand as her freefall began.

Clover had a moment of pure ungraceful reentry, and he couldn't help the short, ungainly flail as he came back to the world about him, green eyes whipping about his surroundings in a brief moment of disorientation.

Sky.

_Sky._

He was in the sky.

_Way_ up in the sky with utterly  _nothing_ below him.

He grabbed hastily at Kingfisher, fingers curling tight about it as he unhooked it from his belt. He had a pretty good landing strategy in mind, and it mostly came down to catch something before he caught the ground too hard. Not too terrible, all things considered. He'd been in worse situations than this.

Wind screamed past him, tearing back at his uniform and hair as he plummeted towards the snow, and he kept his eyes firmly on his landing site, falling into an easy sort of skydive. Something suddenly clicked in the back of his mind as he sought to find the raven far below him, wings barely flickering this way and that in little corrections as it streaked downwards, following the face of the mountain and skimming scant feet above its surface.

A completely comfortable and well practised freefall...

Straight from cruising altitude.

Green eyes whipped up to the horizon, spying the far off smudge of an island that sat in the sky like a ghost, shrouded in cloud. Mantle lay completely obscured but he knew exactly where it was. He'd seen the sight a thousand times from an airship, but never...

Never like this...

_When you're up there, you can see what feels like the whole continent underneath you._

Clover felt his breath still in his chest as the calm words rang clear in his mind, and he knew it had nothing to do with the pressure of gravity pushing against him. Did Qrow know this was what Ruby was going to do? That meant she'd done it before. No, he had a  _ damn  _ good idea she was going to do this.

_Just you and the clouds and the horizon. The wind in your hair._

He felt his lips begin to pull into a faint smile, letting the feeling of the elements rush over him. Green eyes closed slowly as he let himself slip into the weightlessness of the moment and utterly relished the sensation of it all just falling away.

His arms came in close to his body and he spiralled lazily in the air, the euphoric feeling of vertigo tingling his senses in a way like none other. Wind streaked through his hair; something that should have been chilling him to the bone, but he found the adrenaline had all but smothered it. It was an incredible sensation and he was almost sorry it was going to be over too soon.

He already wanted desperately to do it all over again.

_Not a care in the world. It's like no other high you can get._

The only thing he felt was utter bliss as he suddenly spread his arms wide, catching more of the wind and slowing his descent somewhat. The bright laugh slipped from him as the pure rush of joy ran through him, and green eyes locked onto the mines before him, still so far away, but knowing he only had one very quick shot to make.

Kingfisher snapped out from his hand, unfurled and at the ready. With a firm smile in place, his thumb flicked over his badge as he drew Kingfisher back, lining up the shot. He whipped the rod forwards in a fierce cast, bowing it harshly as the hook shot out, the reel screaming.

The barbed hook punched deep into a metal tower, catching on the retract, and Clover rapidly reversed the line, keeping it taut as he plummeted towards the ground. Both hands clenched tight about the rod and he readied himself for the heavy drag of gravity, and with the sudden wrenching of force, he swung up and away from the ground.

Booted toes skimmed the barest surface of the snow as he arced upwards, and he gave a quick whip of Kingfisher's line to jerk the hook free. In his second freefall of the day, he tumbled backwards lazily in the air before impacting the ground hard, legs absorbing the shock as he slid to a stop, carving a deep line in the fresh snow, one hand braced upon the ground to steady himself.

He stayed like that for a moment, letting his body get used to the feeling of solid earth beneath him and a distinct lack of stinging icy winds upon skin.

He also realised how hard he was breathing as he stood up slowly, shaking the snow from his hand. Green eyes cast their way up to the top of the nearby mountain, where once, only a minute ago, they all stood. His heart still beat in his ears from the rush, and he couldn't keep the broad smile from his face.

Clover tucked Kingfisher back into place on his belt, euphoria running through his veins as he spied the faint specks of his makeshift team coming in for their landings.

_That's the best part about being up there... you really feel the weight of the world just... falling away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hella fun chapter to write, and I'd been wanting to get my fighting hands dirty again since the sparring match. And hey, it wouldn't be RWBY without a Grimm fight here or there! Hopefully there can be more of it in the future :D


	15. Concerns And Crows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start out by saying that if this chapter seems a little... rough around the edges, I'm deeply sorry.
> 
> This was the first chapter written after Chapter Twelve.
> 
> I've gone through and edited and rewritten parts where it needed some serious love, and where pacing allowed, but for the most part, the entirety of this chapter was written when I was still in a very bad place and recovering from all of that. I hope you all can understand <3

It was well known amongst the Atlesian Military that one Clover Ebi was a man who never seemed to shy away from being downright friendly. Wherever he went, he always seemed to hold a shine in his eyes, or a smile at the corner of his lips. He carried on with the populace and his subordinates with a demeanour that suggested he was on good terms with the whole world.

Which, in all fairness, he certainly seemed to be at most times in his life.

So even as their makeshift team reunited, settling their business at the outpost and signing off for the day, it seemed perfectly normal for the man to be unable to keep the smile from his face. Even as they piled into the truck for their return trip to Atlas, it was never outside of his usual style to offer the lieutenant a parting wave and well wishes for the remainder of his day, even going so far as to lean out the window and shake the man's hand.

Qrow couldn't help the quiet hum of amusement that slipped from him as he sat back in his seat, crossing his ankles on the console of the truck. Green eyes glanced over at him as they left the outpost.

“Something funny?”

The huntsman clasped his hands behind his head, closing his his eyes. “Oh not at all, Mr Sunshine,” he told him simply, his own smile faint on his lips.

Clover gave him a bright laugh. “That's a new one. I must really be in the good books.”

“Not at all,” came the easy reply as reclined further in his seat and looking the very picture of relaxed. “Just that you seem to be enjoying yourself more than usual.”

“Mm, and I wonder why that is.”

It was soft and gentle, a complete hook, and Qrow felt his smile widen at it. He knew _damn_ well why, but he certainly wasn't going to bite. No, he was _enjoying_ this.

“Here I was hoping you could tell me.”

Clover allowed another laugh to overtake him, unable to stop himself from caving to the huntsman's simple ribbing. The utter delight still ran through him like caffeine and he knew there was no way he could stop it.

“You knew all along that's what she'd do.”

Red eyes glanced back at him without moving, the faintest sliver of knowing colour set above a smirk that couldn't have agreed any more if he tried. It was an expression of smug mischief and it told Clover everything he needed to know in a heartbeat.

“She might have done it once or twice before.”

Clover leant forward in his seat a little, setting his gaze more firmly onto those red eyes.

“I also know _why_ you encouraged her to do it.”

There was a beat of time, and Qrow simply waited him out, thoroughly enjoying this game of theirs. Clover felt his smile soften as he placed elbows to his knees, hands clasped loosely before him as he rested his cheek against them, just watching the huntsman.

“... how does it feel up there?” the soft phrase slipped from him.

It was a memory that had been rolling through his thoughts ever since he had come back down to earth – quite literally. He knew the words between them so intimately now; his mind simply hadn't stopped replaying the scene. Qrow knew it too, if the way he turned his head ever so slightly to meet those eyes was any indication.

The huntsman's smile warmed as he sat there, watching the man with fondness.

“Freeing, right?”

Clover allowed the utter mirth to run across his entire expression as he gave a bright laugh, shaking his head as he turned his eyes across the tundra before them. Words failed him entirely for a moment, and Qrow felt his affection for the man swell. He looked so completely delighted and for a small window of time, it appeared that he'd actually forgotten how to function.

“It was... indescribable,” he finally settled on. “Like nothing I've ever felt before...” The huff of a laugh bubbled from him again. “I _really_ want to do it again.”

Qrow gave him his own breathy laugh as he withdrew his hands, reaching easily for the man's own and threading fingers together. Warmth squeezed gently against him and he followed his gaze to the vast stretch of white before them.

“I'm sure you'll get your chance...” he breathed, thumb stroking idly. “Also kind of glad your landing strategy worked out.”

Green eyes frowned back at him playfully as he leant back in his seat. “Kind of?”

“Is 'mostly' better?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“We could always chalk it up to dumb luck.”

“I happen to think it was _very_ good luck...”

The mischievous smile made it's way to red eyes. “So... lucky you..?”

It was a soft sound of amusement that fell from Clover as he nuzzled him gently, sharing warmth with him in their closeness.

There was a sharp shriek behind them, and both startled hard, jerking their attention to the rear of the truck. Ruby was downright bouncing in her seat as she held her scroll to her ear, legs kicking in the air in excitement.

“ _Yang!_ Ohmygosh, you are _not_ going to believe the day we just had!!” she all but screamed into the device. “It was _way_ better than anything you've ever _seen!_ ...No! _Better than that!!_ We got to the outpost and they wanted us to do a patrol because there were Grimm in the area and you should have seen it! There were Sabyrs and a Nevermore and-”

Qrow sighed heavily as his niece continued her rapidfire prattling, feeling his heart rate come down from the sudden spike and relaxing back against his seat once more. Clover felt his smile return to him as he reclined in his seat a little more, leaning against the huntsman and settling his head onto his shoulder.

Red eyes blinked at the simple action from the man as his own soft smile came back to him. Fingers squeezed his hand gently as Clover closed his eyes, simply enjoying the feel of the other so close to him.

“Lucky me indeed...”

***

Their return trip, as with most of their trips back to Mantle, was, for the most part, uneventful. Ruby had taken to dozing lightly, nestled safely on one of the makeshift benches, Crescent Rose tucked underneath her and in easy reach. The dark clouds that threatened to chase them and sour their day hung back, slowly descending onto the snowy landscape behind them. It still didn't stop Clover from watching its progress carefully on his scroll, a faint note of worry running through him as his thoughts kept three paces ahead of the storm.

As luck would have it, the impressive storm seemed to favour the jagged rise of the mountain peaks, only shaking loose a veritable dumping of fresh snow upon the mines and tundra behind them.

Yet the added snow meant the road to the outpost would need to be thoroughly plowed before the next supply run. Of which would have to be stopped for the short term. Which meant more resources needed for the task at hand. The personnel at the outpost had enough food, water and shelter to not be in immediate danger, but if they took too much time, and the storm lingered, it could be too late to salvage anything.

His brow pinched at the thought.

Qrow finally gave a faint sigh from where he dozed lightly at his side, feeling the tension running through the man's form as easy as feeling the warmth from a bonfire, and he squeezed his shoulder gently from where an arm lay draped across them.

“... stop thinking so much, you're keeping me awake,” he murmured, red eyes refusing to open.

At the soft words, Clover seemed to shake from his thoughts a little, realising the faint note of tension that had settled into him. The ghost of a smile sought his lips and he fought back the quiet sigh, tucking his scroll away. Qrow was right; it was something that could be thoroughly planned out back at the Academy.

He settled further into the warmth at his side, letting himself relax against the huntsman, knowing full well that work could come later. The arm across his shoulder drifted lazy fingers along the bare skin of his arm and he closed his eyes, enjoying the simple sensation. It was inviting, and he didn't even hesitate to give in and indulge in the sleepy slice of peace shared between them.

“Sir, yes sir...” the breath slipped from him.

Qrow turned his head lightly, feeling soft hair smooth across his cheek as he nuzzled him gently. Lips pressed softly to his hair, allowing the faint curl of satisfaction to find him.

“... much better...”

Behind them both, a faint smile curled warmly to the girl's face where she lay. Silver eyes had blinked open as she caught the faint murmur of voices, yet without their words, all she could hear was the simple note of affection that ran beneath them. All she could see was the two of them curled quite contentedly alongside each other, her uncle grazing lips gently through brunet hair. It settled deep in her heart as the sigh fell from her.

Fingers reached for her scroll, and she brought it up to her face, fingers tapping out a simple message as they neared Mantle's border.

_I think he's going to be okay._

With a soft sound, she sent it to her sister, and as their transport made it's way back to the relative safety of the city, she felt nothing but warmth in her chest. Her uncle really had found someone he could trust, and to her it was the most cherished thing in the world.

She curled up further on the bench, knees tucking closer to her body, letting the warmth swell in her chest, almost threatening to burst. That feeling alone was enough to bring the smile to her face and keep it firmly in place. All of her worries and frustrations for her uncle seemed to dwindle in light of what she now knew.

It was true, what she had told Clover – arriving in Atlas had been at the tail-end of a tumultuous time for the huntsman. He'd long since weighed his decisions and regrets and chose to act out in favour of smoothing over some of their wrinkles. To start making amends for lost time and a lifetime of regrets. To make choices that would change the course of his happiness.

The faint pinch found her brow. She'd been so naïve to his troubles, only feeling the frustration that sat upon the surface for the longest time. And she really did have a lot to learn about this kind of thing, she knew. But... her uncle had found something else though, through Clover.

He'd found hope.

And that was more than enough for her.

In her hand, her scroll vibrated softly, and by the time she'd glanced down at it, another two more notifications had come through. Then a fourth. A fifth. The soft snuffle of laughter slipped from her as she took in both her sister's and her team's response. Well of _course_ they'd all be wanting to hear news of her own little mission.

The snow continued to fall behind them as their transport passed through the gates of Mantle, and with a general feeling of weariness, the three of them signed off on another completed supply run. To Ruby, they felt almost endless, and she really was asking herself whether it was overall easier and faster to simply pile everything onto the one airship, rather than go through the monotony of repeated convoys through a vastly uninteresting landscape.

The reasoning had already been given to her, but it still felt like such a mindless task.

The return to the world of Atlas above felt much the same. Air travel was _really_ beginning to lose its novelty for her, even if it was convenient. Silver eyes glanced over to Qrow as he stared out the window of their airship, arms folded and red eyes tracing the landscape below them. He was sure it was the same for him; flying felt far stuffier on the inside of a ship than out there, free within the clouds.

Still, it was good to see him healed once more after such a brief scare. And she knew he appreciated being able to fly again.

A soft laugh caught their attention, and they both turned to see Clover easily chatting to the pilot, leaning casually on the back of the co-pilot's chair as green eyes traced the horizon. Ruby's smile broadened; he really was in the habit of making friends wherever he went. It was no wonder her uncle found him so easy to talk to, as she'd already found out.

As they drew to a gentle landing in the Academy forecourt, Clover said his goodbyes to the pilot and they filed onto solid ground once more; the huntsman beside him stretching his arms high above his head, feeling joints pop from being stationary for so long. The sunlight was a welcome, if not brief sight, considering the clouds that were soon descending upon them, and he placed his hands on his hips with a heavy sigh, taking in the sight of the horizon.

Atlas vistas were one thing, if not eternally beautiful, _regardless_ of the weather.

“Think I'm gonna take off for a bit...” he found himself saying. Clover glanced at him from where he stood with Ruby, a brow raising in mild questioning.

“Not keen to stick around for another riveting debriefing?” he asked, the faint smirk on his lips. The soft laugh met his ears, and red eyes turned to face him, that smile firmly in place.

“Listen, I don't need anyone to recap everything that just happened out there. And as it stands, I've spent far too long strapped to the ground since I got here,” the huntsman explained, that note of pure cheek slipping across his expression. “I need to go work on my landing strategies a bit more.”

The easy smile found it's way to Clover's lips and he shook his head lightly. “Just don't go hitting anymore trees.”

Qrow's smile fell completely to a deadpanned glare.

“Now _that's_ just rude,” he bit back at him, earning a soft laugh. Ruby could only pout at him as she mirrored his stance.

“But Uncle Qrow, you promised to buy us all lunch when we got back!”

“Sorry kiddo, I don't make the rules,” he told her, reaching over to ruffle her hair lightly. She swatted at him with a bright laugh, and he merely ducked out of the way with a smirk.

“Alright, fine. Go have some fun already. We both know you're dying to get up there again,” she chided warmly. “We'll make sure to tell you all about the meeting.”

“Oh, I can't _wait_ ,” came the reply as he was already walking away, waving over his shoulder.

“You're buying lunch tomorrow though!” she called after him.

They both watched him go, smiling to themselves. Ruby was downright glad he was back to better health and could take to the skies again; she knew he was sorely missing it, even if he hadn't breathed a word of it to anyone. Clover, too, could tell that he was nearly itching to soar between the clouds and lose himself in that world once more. Gods knew _he'd_ do it as often as he could, if he had the ability.

He'd _really_ have to remember to ask Ruby if she could take to the skies with him again sometime soon.

The thought of the girl _did_ remind him of an earlier notion though, and he felt his gaze lower faintly. Their conversation from earlier still rang in his mind, and he was still honoured that she'd shared as much as she did with him. True, it felt that there was a wealth of information that he hadn't heard, but maybe... one day... he'd hear all about the missing pieces.

Yet there was one thing that had simply been mentioned in brief passing, and it ghosted about his thoughts; like the memory of a candle snuffed out hours before, with it's scent still lingering in a room.

_We all had our struggles along the way, but... Uncle Qrow was... in a really bad place._

He knew dearly what those words inferred. Qrow himself had nearly started telling him as much until he'd cut the huntsman off.

_Don't worry, I-I gave that up._

He felt his brow pinch as he glanced back at the girl. “Ruby, I... have a question, if it's not too forward.”

Silver eyes glanced up from where they'd been watching her uncle wander away, ears perking at the sound of her name.

“Sure, what's up?”

He almost cursed himself for not thinking too far ahead in his line of questioning, and he ducked his eyes away for a moment, gathering himself. The girl's brow furrowed as she watched him, wondering where all the hesitation was suddenly coming from.

“Is... everything alright?” she asked softly.

The man gave a soft huff of a laugh at her words, and he resisted the urge to rub at the back of his neck. He wasn't about to start showing any nervous habits when it was such a simple question.

About such a heavy subject.

“Your uncle...” he began. “I know he's had... struggles... with addiction in recent history.” His words dried up on his tongue and he he clenched his jaw for a moment, willing them to simply fall from him. It had only been in passing comments from others, and even Qrow himself, that he'd known about it, and he felt more than a little foolish for not picking up on it all sooner.

“How long... has he been sober?”

Silver eyes blinked back at him, as though mishearing the question, and her hands slowly lowered from her hips, straightening at the words. How long had...

“Oh... um, well...” She seemed to fumble about her words, and she found herself scratching for the answer for a brief moment. “It's... it's been ever since we arrived here... really... So maybe... like... a month?”

Green eyes ducked back up to hers, surprise evident in their depths. “A _month?_ ” Ruby reached up to rub her arm lightly, needing to give her fingers something to do.

“Well, yeah, it... hasn't been that long, truth be told,” she told him softly. “I mean... things were really tough on him for a while there, but... coming here has... kind of changed that, you know?”

Her smile settled easily upon her lips. “He's made some hard choices along the way, but... he's got a good reason to stick with it now.”

The words, spoken so soft and honest, hit Clover like a hammer, and it was his turn to fumble with his reaction. He knew this shared thing between them was a good enough reason for the huntsman to begin to open up again, to trust people once more. He'd just... never thought of _that_ side of it, not really.

The warmth gathered under his collar as he was gently introduced to the notion that it was reason enough for Qrow to stop entirely. And stick with it, as the girl had said.

“I'm glad...” he breathed. “It's a big step. And a month is a hell of a long time.”

“You're telling me,” she replied with a faint laugh. “But... I'm proud of him. It's been a... a long time coming.”

Clover couldn't help the warm smile that came to him. Couldn't help the warmth that had settled deep in his chest. It was a complete departure from the heady euphoria he'd felt earlier in the day. It was something stronger than potentially his own fondness for the huntsman himself.

He reached up absently, fingers settling across his stomach, curling lightly there and needing the purchase against something. It shouldn't have surprised him that he kept finding ways for his affection to grow and grow, yet here he stood.

He was utterly proud of him. Ridiculously so. The feeling almost threatened to smother him entirely.

And it gave him the perfect idea.

“There's... a favour I'd like to ask of you,” he began, bringing green eyes back to the girl. “You and your sister.”

***

Time held no meaning to him up there.

It never really did.

Up where it was only himself, and the wind, the vast horizon and the utter freedom of the sky, it was a place he could spend an eternity, if he so chose.

The black speck of a raven shot as high as it could through the clouds, wings beating a steady fury against gravity as the cold air slivered under feathers, threatening to freeze. As it dared to go no further, wings tucked in tight, corkscrewing straight up, and in a burst of black feathers, the huntsman appeared in it's place.

He was held weightless, utterly suspended in time for a moment, red eyes closed to the feeling of it.

Momentum pulled at him once more, and he fell backwards towards the earth, almost lazily, the breath pulled from him. It was a bliss like no other; he certainly hadn't lied when he spoke those words to him.

Wind tore at him furiously, buffeting him about from the snowstorm that sat upon the fringes of the sky, ripping at both clothing and hair, and he let it. He let it pull and snatch and do what it wanted as he fell limp against gravity.

Letting it all fall away.

The smile drew across his lips as arms came in close to his body, spiralling faster into the freefall. Vertigo touched the edge of his senses, as it always did, and he knew that this was the sensation he always craved. This was what kept him firmly in the sky.

That almost dizzying feeling that overtook the edges of his mind and drowned his thoughts against everything else. He knew this was what Clover felt in his giddy return to earth. He knew this was what the man desired to feel once more.

It blanketed everything, smothering the noise of the world, turning it all to white.

It truly was a high like no other.

There was a faint buzz at his chest and the faint frown caught him, pulled from the moment.

For as much as he appreciated Atlas technology, he sure did dislike the way their communications could find him so easily, even all the way up here. He'd have to remember that for next time, and maybe leave the damn thing back in his room.

Still, there was no chance of knowing anything about the message until he came back down to earth. Quite literally.

He drew himself in tight, shooting towards the ground like a freight train. There was no way of speeding up the process any further – he knew from experience – but he could still enjoy his time up in the vastness of the sky.

The air began to feel differently about him – suddenly tasting dense compared to further up – and he opened his eyes against the rush of the wind, seeing a snow dusted forest beneath him, airborne flakes stinging exposed skin as he ripped through them. He had a handful of time before he met the ground and he shot his arms out wide, creating an instant drag against the wind. With a safe enough speed, he snapped back into his corvid form, streaking further towards the ground.

In a sharp upwards arc, it wheeled up and away from the snowy treetops, letting gravity catch it and slow it further. It chose a small clearing ahead of it, and swooped low, flaring it's wings and landing smartly on the ground with a little hop.

The raven gave a rapid little shake as snow continued to fall lazily about it, fluffing up in response to the cold around it before another scattering of black feathers brought the huntsman back into existence. Qrow couldn't help the shiver that tore through him, bringing his hands up to his arms and rubbing lightly.

Freeing as it might be to be up in the sky, the return back to earth anywhere in Solitas was always _frightfully_ cold.

Fingers cupped up to his mouth, breathing warmth into them and he rubbed hands together gently. It took him a handful of seconds as he stared about the trees to realise he didn't... really... recognise the landscape about him. Even the edges of the mountains that weren't obscured by snow clouds didn't look all that familiar to him.

His brow set in a frown as he reached for his scroll, knowing he could work that out after he'd settled something else first. He tapped it open, and was greeted with a message from Yang. He skimmed its contents and laughed softly at it, the wry smile finding his lips.

“Alright, I'll bite...” he murmured to himself, hitting the reply. “And if I have other plans?” he dictated to himself as he tapped it out, sending it back to her.

There was a moment of pause and he could just imagine the angry flare in those eyes as she beat out her own reply.

_These ARE your plans for tonight, so hurry it up!_

The laugh tore from him at her words, and he decided to play nice with her. For now.

“I'll see you in an hour, firecracker.”

He signed off from her little tirade with a smile, tapping open the map of the area to find out exactly where he was. Red eyes blinked back at his scroll in surprise and in a startle, he brought up the topographical hologram of the area. The small winking red light showed he was standing _way,_ way west of Atlas, past the western border of mountains, and his eyes widened at it. He whipped his gaze to the eastern horizon as best as he could, snow flicking from where it had settled on his hair, taking a few steps back to see through and above foliage.

It was hard to see with the trees and snow clouds blotting what vision he had, but above the edges of the mountains that lay behind him, he could almost... _almost_ make out the scant sight of the Flagships lining the border of Atlas. They looked like specks of dust in the sky, and he blinked at them in pure disorientation.

He was going to _need_ that hour just to get back there. His wings already hurt at the thought of the flight. Qrow swiped the map away as he brought up Yang's details again, hastily tapping another message.

“Can I have another half?”

There was a tense beat of time as he waited for a reply, and he knew his words were going to be met with a sigh, regardless. It blipped back to him and read it hastily.

_Ruby says yes. I say move it already._

Qrow sighed in scant relief.

_Where are you anyway?_

He reached up to rub the back of his neck, knowing he was going to have to answer eventually.

“I... took a long fly. A _very_ long fly.” There was a moment of heady internal debate, ending with him just sighing and giving in, realising he was already in strife either way. He sent her the details on his location before he could back down from the idea. Considering how terse she was to begin with, he could just about hear her frustrated scream from where he stood.

_WHY are you all the way out THERE._

Qrow groaned to himself, knowing he'd just thrown _himself_ under the bus. “Can't talk. Gotta fly.” He flicked his scroll off, stuffing it back into his pocket and took a short sprint towards the other end of the clearing. In a brief burst of feathers, he was up and flapping furiously to gain altitude above the trees.

The bird could already feel it's heart beating furiously as it pushed hard against the air, pulling itself further and further upwards. Trying to head there in a straight line would bring a ridiculous amount of pressure to it's body, and it didn't fancy the idea of dropping like a stone from exhaustion. It's only chance was to try and gain as much altitude as it could from the terrain, hopefully going further above Atlas, before turning to glide down to it.

It was going to be a hell of a push to gain that much altitude – regardless of the limited wind at it's back.

It wheeled about, using a brief dive to fling it's body higher and flapping broad wings to push on, steadily climbing in a loose zig-zag fashion. It kept repeating the action, over and over, turn and dive, swoop up and score higher. It's wings began to ache from both the cold and the exertion, and even it had to admit temporary surrender as it came to the top of the nearby mountain.

There was a brief scuffle of snow as it landed, beak open and puffing hard before it gave a sharp shake, and the huntsman took it's place, landing on his knees as the wind pulled at his hair. Now higher up, exposed to the western side of the oncoming snowstorm, he was no longer protected from the elements as he was down in the valley. Something that would work to his advantage as soon as he remembered how to breathe again. Qrow felt his chest heaving with the effort; he hadn't flown straight up this hard for a while now, and gods above and below, but it hurt to breathe in the cold air.

He felt entirely out of practice, even if it _had_ only been a week.

It was easier to rest as himself, in his own body, and he swallowed through a dry throat, staring down at the progress he'd made. Brows raised in tired acceptance; for having no thermals to work with, and barely any breeze on that side of the mountain, he'd manage to reach the top of the thing itself. That was no small feat for a bird _not_ designed for this kind of climate.

The faint smile found his lips as he felt the ache in his chest start to lessen. Alright, maybe there were some downsides to being a bird that he _hadn't_ told Clover yet.

Taking in a sharp breath and closing his eyes, he held it for as long as his aching lungs dared, seeing faint motes behind his eyes before letting it out in a slow and steadying breath. With a determined push, he stood up once more, wiping snowy fingers on his pants as the wind continued to tug at him.

He glanced up at Atlas again, still so far away, and his brow set in a determined line. He still had a ways to go, not a lot of time to do it in, and he knew there would be no more stopping. Qrow fell into a readied stance, eyes focused on the sky straight ahead, and in a shot, he took off for the edge of the rock, leaping off into oblivion and bursting into corvid form once more. The bird was instantly snatched up by the wind, and the force of it was almost like hitting a wall.

The raven kept it's wings spread wide as best as it could, ascending higher and higher with the incredible updraft. This time, on this side of the mountain, it had the advantage of facing the wind from the approaching storm.

Stronger than a thermal but wildly unpredictable; something it had spent it's entirely life soaring through.

It knew the winds as intimately as the sheen on it's feathers, and with broad wings spread wide, it let the very wind itself push it higher, gaining altitude at a rapid pace. Atlas itself would have it's own affect on the wind higher up, and the raven was counting on that for the final stretch.

It still became an endless cycle of ascension, no matter how much the wind helped, and soon it had to rely on former tactics to start gaining altitude; dive at the apex, soar higher, wheel about. Only to repeat the action, over and over again. With the wind on it's side, the raven began to tire less, but it's wings still ached from it's earlier flight, and it really didn't feel like falling from the sky in exhaustion.

Time began to slip from it's mind as it let itself fall into the easy pattern of flight.

Atlas drew ever closer, and red eyes could begin to make out the underside of the immense floating island. The anchor point of those vast tethers, the architecture that stretched upon the rocky surface like spiderweb under a log, the buzz of air traffic in the sky, all oblivious to one small bird ascending to their kingdom.

Only when it neared the edge of the city, did it feel the signs of strain begin to tire wings once more. The way the air felt different. The heaviness in muscles and tendons. The chill of the wind that hit differently, slicing under feathers and seeping into bones.

The raven broke above the surface of the island in a near vertical shot and arced towards the ground, wings flaring out and aiming for the dirt.

In a purely ungraceful move, it fumbled the landing, stumbling over it's own talons, wings splayed out on the ground and tail feathers drooping over it's head, puffing hard with it's beak open and looking for all the world like an exhausted pile of feathers.

It couldn't move for a moment, just taking the time to let it's hammering heart come down to something less than a furious pounding.

At lest this time, nothing felt broken, it's mind hazily grumbled.

But oh, the grass was cool and wonderfully soft under it's poor body, and it felt like utter bliss to simply lay there. Even if it knew it couldn't for much longer. Red eyes blinked a little as it scurried upright once more, shuffling wings back into place.

The raven took in it's surroundings, still breathing hard as it realised it had landed in the vast farmland at the southern side of the city. Well, at least the warmer open ground here meant thermals. Which meant an easier flight back, which meant it could pause for a moment.

It shifted in place lightly, ducking a beak under a wing to preen lightly at the underside for a moment. After such a heavy flight up, feathers had shifted, and settled in uncomfortable ways on it's warm body. After fluffing up for a moment, it preened under the other wing, almost nibbling it's way towards the front.

With a sudden little shake to settle feathers once more, it blinked red eyes about the field again. In a stilling realisation, it really sunk in that it'd landed in the _farmland_ sector of Atlas.

Farmland and ravens typically did _not_ get on well, if it's own history was anything to go by, and it stood up tall on talons, stretching it's neck high to search for any signs of danger about it. No humans. No dogs. Good. And thank the gods it was far enough away from any structures, which meant no cats, either.

It _hated_ cats.

Red eyes flicked about the landscape for a moment longer, knowing it's decision had been made for it. As much as the raven wanted to, there would be no more dallying in such a potentially dangerous landscape.

The raven gave a sharp cry as it took off once more in a beating of wings, this time circling wide about the fields, yet still making it's way towards the heart of the great city. A far easier flight by any stretch, given the way the warmth spread across the ground, and it was now an entirely horizontal flight, but it was still glad when the spire of the Academy began to swing into view.

It had been a tiring trip back, and not at _all_ how it intended the afternoon to go.

The bird had notions of nothing more than wheeling through the clouds, enjoying the wind under it's feathers, allowing itself to drop into a blissful freefall where vertigo washed everything away. Of darting through trees and branches in gravity-defying swoops. Of spending time stretching it's wings in a way it hadn't for a very long time. Of maybe hunting a little, since it felt it was becoming rusty at such a thing.

Instead, it was now flying for it's very life, lest it's own niece decided it was too tardy. If the raven had the inclination, it would sigh at the whole situation.

Wings beat a furious march as it zipped over the first of the buildings, warmth from below helping to push it higher and glide further. It soon ducked between others, weaving between structures and signs, air traffic and the occasional tree. A transport ship streaked overhead, and it dived under it, feeling the drag of hot air shunt it's small body.

With a final push, it arced upwards towards the Academy forecourt, where it once stood so many hours ago. Now high above the pavement, it spied the corner of the building, and whilst it wasn't the best place, it knew there was a blind spot in the cameras.

And hopefully no cadets sneaking about.

It glided towards it, wings spread wide as it ducked around the corner of the building and landed on the ground with a short bounce. Red eyes skirted about, looking for any sign of movement before the bird gave a brief but rapid shake. Black feathers scattered about it as Qrow reappeared, falling heavily to his knees and catching the rest of his body with his forearms. His chest still heaved as he stayed there for a moment, swallowing through a dry throat and giving himself a handful of time to let his body adjust to stillness.

His arms were shaking from the strain to keep himself upright, and he closed his eyes against the feeling as he gingerly pushed himself back to his knees, letting tired limbs hang limply at his sides.

He _hated_ flying anywhere so hard and fast. Particularly when he hadn't done it for a while.

One hand reached up to his shoulder, holding firmly as he rotated the arm gently. Gods, but his body already _ached_ , and he couldn't stop the weary groan as he opened his eyes once more. As nice as it would be just to slump over and curl up on the scant patch of grass there, he knew he didn't have the luxury of delay.

Qrow turned his gaze over to the horizon, seeing just how far he'd managed to push his aching wings in a short amount of time. He'd be impressed, if he wasn't about ready to fall over in a heap.

The stray thought brought the faint smile to his face as he pushed himself to his feet with a heavy groan.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, knowing he'd burnt up nearly half his allotted time on the flight, but also knowing he was going to spend the rest of it in a hot shower. He could already imagine what kind of bliss that would be, and the heavy sigh fell from him as he started heading towards the entrance.

Then all he had to do was survive a night on the town with his girls.

He didn't know what exhausted him more, he thought with a faint smile.


	16. Family And Festivities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fun as hell to write and utterly warming all at once. There's a wonderful piece of fanart that pretty much spawned the whole idea, so the link will be at the end, since it's a tad spoilery for the end of the chapter <3

Qrow had since long resigned himself to the fact he couldn't spend  _all_ of his remaining time under a hot shower. As much as his body wanted to, he knew that movement was just as good as the soothing heat, and he groaned softly to himself as he bent over to collect his discarded clothes from earlier, having already pulled on the clean pair of pants waiting for him.

He didn't like the way the action hurt, the way his entire back still seized at certain motions, and he stood up once more, turning behind him to dump his clothes in the provided hamper. They'd be returned to him eventually, and it wasn't as if there weren't provided ones here for him. He'd probably have to take a day off from missions just to lounge around and recover from his own stunt anyway, so he may as well make use of the free sweatpants, his mind decided.

The aching sigh slipped from him as he tilted his head to the side, feeling the pull of muscles along his neck and shoulders. He knew he would be stiff for  _days_ now, so the enforced downtime was looking more and more tempting by the minute.

He padded towards the small bed, staring down at what had been left for him and resisted the urge to sigh. They were still kids, he reminded himself, and the novelty of dressing up for a special occasion would stick with them for a long while yet. He did also have the strong feeling that Weiss was the one to tone down his nieces when it came to selecting it, and he brushed the little invitation card to the side, fingering a dark sleeve lightly.

The fabric felt soft. Silky, almost. Something that looked far out of his usual price range, and he hated to think what it probably cost the poor girl. He fought the urge to sigh, instead letting the faint smile grace his lips; he'd have to make it up to her later.

Brows pinched faintly, and he  _did_ have to wonder why simply going out to dinner warranted such special treatment. Though, he reasoned, if Weiss had  _any_ hand in it, it was likely going to be a rather dressy place. Which meant he probably couldn't get away with wearing his cloak. Good thing it was already in the hamper.

It seems you could take the Schnee out of Atlas, but you couldn't take the Atlas out of the Schnee, he thought with an amused smile.

He reached up to run fingers through his hair, brushing his fringe back entirely. Well, if they intended to go all-out with the night, then what was to stop him from dressing up and having a little fun, too? Qrow scooped up the black dress shirt, slipping it over his arms and shrugging into it, ignoring the protest from tight muscles; it utterly bled about him, and he was surprised by how good it felt against his skin.

Fingers graced over small silver buttons at the front, and it drew the fabric closer to him with each movement, conforming smoothly to the lines of his body. Brows raised as he twisted about a couple of times, crossing his arms briefly; it felt...  _really_ good. Snug, without being too tight. Comfortable.

It was tailored to him perfectly.

Weiss had a hell of an eye for measurements.

The long sleeves  _were_ an immediate sore spot for him, though, and he began rolling them up out of pure habit. Still, he made sure that the cuffs were smoothed down nicely. Kept neat and flat, lest he get on her bad side. He wandered back to the small bathroom, tucking his shirt in as he went, and slipping on his wrist cuff before fingers fell back to the vanity, searching for the rest.

Red eyes glanced down in momentary confusion, and he let out his breath in a soft murmur. Ruby still had his rings. Right. Fingers curled lightly, still feeling a little off without their presence.

He'd have to remember to ask about them tonight.

Glancing up at his reflection, his eyes skimmed over the man that stared back at him. Despite how weary he still felt from his break-neck speed of a flight, he looked... awake and alert. Refreshed, even. The red eyes that blinked back at him held a clarity they'd been without for... gods,  _years_ it seemed like. Fingers reached up, running across his jaw lightly, feeling soft stubble. His skin had always been fair, but he had to wonder if all this snow was starting to give him a tan, and he tugged back lightly at his collar to inspect it.

No horrible tan lines yet, he thought with mild relief, but his colour was... clearer. It seemed smoother, especially across his face, and fingers reached back up to brush lightly over his cheeks. He leant in, inspecting himself closer.

Qrow wasn't a vain man, all things considered. He knew he had rather natural good looks, despite his age, and certainly despite his habits.

But even he had to admit that compared to the man he saw a mere month ago, this one looked...

Brighter.

Better.

… content.

He drew back slowly, the faint smile playing on his lips. He  _did_ feel better, and the thought sat warmly in his chest. He had... a lot of people to thank for this. A heck of a lot.

The smile on his lips grew as the soft colour brushed along his cheeks, and he turned away from his reflection. He walked to where Harbinger lay on the kitchen bench and fingers curled about it's handle, squeezing lightly.

He had one person in particular to thank, he knew, and slid the weapon snugly into place at the small of his back, feeling it settle firmly into a belt loop.

There was a soft knock on his door, and he padded over to it, opening it up to face one very impressive golden braid and violet eyes staring straight back at him. Brows went up and he smiled in warm approval at the sight that greeted him.

“Now look at that. It really _can_ be tamed,” he teased his niece softly. Yang could only roll her eyes at him as she folded her arms across her chest.

“Oh come on, you've seen me with it tied back before,” she replied, smirking back at him.

Qrow gave an amused sound at that. “Yeah, and remind me who was the one that gave you pigtails in the first place?” His niece gave him a light shove as she pushed past him, though she couldn't keep the smile from her face. The huntsman closed the door after her, following her into the kitchenette where she turned to face him, hands on her hips with a wry smile on her expression.

“So.”

The huntsman raised a brow at her, not following. “So..?”

“ _So..._ how long did it take you to fly back?” she goaded him.

He released the quiet sigh, reaching up to rub the back of his neck lightly as he glanced to the tiles. It still hurt to think about it.

“From where I was... took about fifty minutes. Maybe a little less, I suppose,” he wagered, gesturing lightly with his hand. “Spent the rest of the time trying to remember what _not_ being in pain felt like,” he added with a soft huff of a laugh.

“Aw, don't be like that,” Yang told him simply. “You're still standing, right?”

“Easy for you to say – you didn't have to make a near vertical flight at top speed, through an approaching snowstorm, to make it back in time. Which, by the way, _you're welcome_ ,” he jabbed lightly.

She waved him off. “I had total faith in you the whole time,” came the smooth reply. “But thanks for helping me win a bet.”

“Are you _kidding_ me,” Qrow deadpanned at her.

“After Jaune found out you wanted an hour and a half, he _totally_ thought you weren't gonna make it in time,” she explained. “Joke's on him, because I just made a sweet thirty lien out of it.” The blonde gave a sharp laugh, looking righteously proud of herself, and Qrow could only sigh heavily at his niece.

Well, it wasn't as if he wouldn't have done the same thing himself, he mused, the soft smile finding him.

Coming back from her mirth, violet eyes narrowed faintly as she scrutinised him, as if noticing his attire properly for the first time. Qrow, knowing it was coming and having just waited for his prompt, held his hands out for inspection. She gave him a little motion to turn around, and the faint sound of amusement slipped from him as he did so, Yang letting her gaze fall to the way charcoal pants sat on him, along with the very nearly second skin of a dark dress shirt.

Oh yeah, they could work with this, she thought with a wry smile.

“Look at that. You actually _do_ scrub up nicely,” she teased him softly, earning another quiet laugh.

“Says you,” he replied softly, still not quite liking all the attention. He paused for a moment, letting his hands settle on his hips as he looked over his niece. She wore a simple white cocktail dress, falling about her form like liquid silk, with white pumps to match, and she looked an absolute vision with the way golden strands of hair framed her face and poured over her shoulder in a shining braid.

He couldn't stop his smile from warming his entire expression if he tried.

“If anyone scrubs up nicely, it's you,” he told her softly, honesty falling from him. “You look stunning, firecracker.”

The words seemed to take her by surprise, and she reached up to fiddle with the end of her braid, unable to meet his eyes. Though it didn't stop the faint smile from appearing below softly coloured cheeks. Why'd he have to go and get all embarrassing all of a sudden...

“Ah... Weiss helped with my hair. And Blake helped pick out the outfit,” she replied quietly. “She helped Ruby and Nora, too.”

“Is that so? Well, she's got good taste,” he replied, storing _that_ little line away for later.

He had to admit, now that he was focusing on the newfound tidbit of knowledge from Pietro, he was starting to see a lot more. He  _was_ still a little sour over the fact that he himself couldn't see it without the tip-off hitting him square between the eyes like a brick, but he was moving past that in great strides.

He was proud she'd found someone. Proud of both of them, really.

All he really wanted for any of the girls was for them to find their happiness, just as Ruby had said about him, and he was downright glad that things had settled enough that they could truly focus on that. Get their breaths back and just... relax for a while.

“Though I do have to ask,” he pressed on, tamping down on the swell of emotion that sat in his chest. He reached up to pluck lightly at his dress shirt. “Weiss?”

Yang gave him a soft laugh. “Yeah, she pretty much demanded the rights to it when we said you were coming.” She puffed herself up to her best imitation of the girl. “He is  _not_ stepping  _one foot_ into that place in those new rags of his!”

The bright laugh fell from him, his niece joining in easily at the gentle tease.

“Hey, I'll have you know, I picked those 'new rags' out _specifically_. They were all tailor-made on the Atlas Military payroll, thanks,” he jabbed back. “What're you supposed to be? A confused pilot?”

“The jumpsuit and jacket are _warm_ , thank you!” she defended herself sharply. “In case you hadn't noticed, it's _snowing_ out there.”

“Oh I noticed, hence my now three layers on the top half. _Four_ if you count the cloak.”

“Yeah, your _ragged_ cloak.”

“I like my cloak!”

Yang couldn't stop the laugh from tearing from her as she shoved at him playfully.

“You are such a dork, Uncle Qrow,” she mumbled affectionately at him. Oh how he wanted to scoop her into a headlock and ruffle that perfectly captured braid in retaliation. He did kind of like living though, so he swept the thought to the side as she continued. “Though... where we're going, I don't think you need to bring that.”

She pointed at Harbinger, sitting snug in it's usual place, and he couldn't help the soft sound that fell from him.

“Mm, I was kinda debating it, but...” he reached up, rubbing his neck lightly. “Sure, what's a night off supposed to be, anyway?” Fingers curled about the weapon, sliding it free and placing it back upon the bench, still lingering upon the handle. It _did_ feel strange to not go anywhere without his weapon, and he absently wondered if he could sneak it in with him somehow.

Just in case things went south.

Of course, with everyone else there, it seemed somewhat pointless. If things  _did_ happen to sour the evening, he was sure they could scrape together a victory using only cutlery and dining chairs. It wouldn't be his first time, that's for sure.

Certainly not Yang's either, if stories from Beacon were to be believed, and the soft huff of a snort left him smirking.

“Alright, let's finish getting you ready before Weiss starts demanding answers,” Yang told him, already walking over to where his outfit once lay, casting her eyes about the messy bed. “Ugh, please tell me you have clean socks somewhere.” He drew back from his weapon, smiling as he headed for the wardrobe.

“Think there's a few left in here. And you'll be proud of me – I even shined my shoes, just for Weiss,” he gave her a brief wink over his shoulder.

“Oh she is going to _love_ you,” came the instant reply without a breath of hesitation. It earned her a soft laugh as he went about pulling socks and shoes on, still feeling more than a little stuffy in the very simple outfit. It might have felt as luxurious as anything upon him, but it still felt... awkward.

He supposed he only had until the end of the night to get used to it, by which time he could quietly return it to the girl and thank her profusely for it.

With a final snap of buckles, he withdrew fingers from his shoes and stood up once more. Yang smirked at him as she held up the last piece of his outfit, and he almost groaned. His tie wearing days were supposed to be done when he graduated.

“Come on, it suits you,” she told him, already tugging his collar up and slipping the dark maroon fabric about his neck.

“It feels like a noose,” he groused softly.

“ _And_ it pulls the whole outfit together. You can't expect just us girls to look gorgeous, right?” she told him firmly, fingers nimbly lacing together the knot.

“Here I thought you already looked gorgeous _without_ all this extra trouble,” he replied with a soft smirk. The colour flushed to her cheeks and she tightened it sharply in response, wringing the soft cough from him. He reached up to settle it into a more breathable position, and smoothed his collar down once more.

It still didn't stop the warm smile from settling on his lips as he stared down at her.

“I mean it though. You really do look gorgeous, Yang.” He reached up to stroke a thumb across her cheek, settling it upon a shoulder. Words seemed to fail him for a moment as he just smiled at her in adoration. “You look every bit as beautiful as your mother, when she was your age.”

The blonde was caught for a moment, feeling her heart skitter in her chest at the gentle words. Hearing him talk so... fondly of Raven was almost jarring, even if the sentiment was meant to be so sincere. She knew his words were coming from a long distant memory, when times were still brighter for all of them. A memory of when he still had his team – his family – close by his side and not scattered to the winds.

But... he was talking straight from the heart, and that alone was enough to bring the warmth to her throat.

Uncle Qrow really  _had_ changed.

“You think?” the soft whisper fell from her.

His smile hitched.

“Just as feisty, too,” he told her warmly. “Thankfully you got your _really_ good looks from your dad.”

Yang closed her eyes as the soft snort tore from her, shaking her head at him. Alright, maybe he hadn't changed  _at all_ .

“You're such a butt...”

He gave a soft laugh as he leant forward, pressing a warm kiss to the crown of her hair. “Yeah, and you adore me for it,” he murmured. She gave a soft hum at his words, letting her arms wrap gently around him, keeping him there for a warm embrace. Qrow could only do the same, feeling fondness pull at his chest as he held her tightly.

He truly would do whatever it took to ensure their safety and happiness.

In the end, it was all that their family could do.

It was all their family had left.

Red eyes closed as he kept his face buried in her hair, smiling gently as he sighed into golden locks. It was all... their family had left... Each other's happiness. And he would fight for it until the end.

With a final squeeze, he drew back from her, still unable to stop from smiling fondly down at her. He gave a heavy sigh, reaching up to smooth down the hair he had lightly mussed, before swiping playfully at her nose. She swatted at him as she pulled back.

“You're gonna mess up my face, stop!” she laughed at him.

“Like you aren't already adorable enough without all that goop,” he retaliated, smooshing his hands to her cheeks and planting a solid kiss to her forehead. She laughed sharply at him and he ducked hastily back out of punching range, grinning like the devil himself.

“Gods, you are the worst!” she told him with another sharp laugh, resisting the urge to reach up and wipe the back of her hand across her face. Blake would be horrified at her if she had to redo her makeup already.

Qrow couldn't keep himself from laughing softly as he walked past her, reaching for his scroll and tucking it into a pocket. He adored teasing his nieces, because just like their father, they all bit so brilliantly. And, just like their father, they both never learned how fast he could jump out of retaliation range.

It was a skill borne from a lifetime of practice and he refused to ever give it up.

“Come on, let's go meet up with the rest of them,” he said, glancing over at her. Fingers reached for the jacket that lay slung over a chair, and he hooked it over his shoulder, free hand slipping into his pocket.

Yang stepped over to him, her hand slipping into the crook of his and smiling fondly up at him.

“Lead the way.”

***

The occasion, as it turned out, was nothing more than a simple get-together of the teams. Ruby hadn't  _outright_ lied when she mentioned wanting to celebrate their ascension to huntsman and huntresses, but, in true Schnee style, Weiss had organised for it to happen at one of the fanciest restaurants Atlas had to offer – all while staying under their very modest budget.

The girl still had her connections, of course.

She gasped softly when uncle and niece appeared before them, hands coming to her mouth as she swept her gaze over the man. His outfit had turned out better than she'd expected, and she almost couldn't believe her luck; it all matched perfectly and suited him utterly well.

Even if he  _had_ rolled up his sleeves in a very uncouth fashion.

“Oh my _gosh_ , Qrow,” she sighed to herself as heels clicked sharply over to him. “I implore you to do one simple thing – just _one_ – and you just can't help yourself. You're as bad as Ruby.”

The huntsman blinked down at her in surprise as she forced herself into his personal space bubble, her hands already reaching for his shirt sleeves and all but tugging them down fiercely. He knew in a heartbeat it would be foolish to try and stop her, and he just let her get to work, holding his arms out for her in surrender.

Weiss snatched the jacket from his hand, thrusting it towards Yang. “Here, hold this.” The blonde nearly caught it with her face with how ferociously it was thrown in her direction.

“I-It wasn't intentional, I swear, it just kind of... happened automatically,” he told her by way of stammered apology. “Uh... at least I rolled them up neatly?” he added with a meek smile. She glared icily back up at him, looking every bit like her sister in that moment, and he knew he was finished. No amount of words would save him now.

Where Winter was a predictable rage, her sister was still a bitter hailstorm out of nowhere.

He tried not to meet that perturbed gaze as she tugged at his arms, eyes searching the stars as Weiss smoothed over fabric with her fingers. She gave a sharp sigh through her nose as she reached the buttons at his wrists.

“You're lucky I planned for this,” she told him, bringing his gaze back to her as she started digging through a purse.

Qrow blinked down at her as she withdrew two tiny silver cufflinks, almost matching the cross-like buttons of his usual vest. He would have laughed at her, had his life not been on the line; she really had planned his entire outfit down to the smallest detail. Weiss seemed to have lost some of her ire as she clipped them gently to his cuffs, deftly securing them, and he still couldn't stop the faint smile as she stared down at them.

Now satisfied with her efforts, she drew back from him, hands on her hips. Qrow drew fingers over each of them in turn, making sure they were straight as the quiet slip of breath fell from him. She really was the spitting image of her sister some days...

And yet more and more, she was growing into her own person. Fierce and strong, someone who showed their affection in their own sort of way. Like aggressively dressing someone up to match the occasion.

“... thanks Weiss,” he told her softly. “Ties the whole thing together now,” he added, earning him a warm smile in return.

Weiss stared up at him, satisfaction radiating from her. “You're welcome.”

At their side, Blake couldn't help but smile fondly at the exchange, and as amber eyes flicked to Yang, she caught the girl giving her a solid thumbs up and a thousand watt grin behind the huntsman's back.

_Now_ he looked perfect.

“Uncle Qrow, you look amazing!” Ruby beamed at him.

“I'll say,” Jaune agreed. “Black really is your colour.”

Nora hummed in agreement. “Something tells me it's the hair.”

Qrow smiled faintly back at them, really wanting to shift the spotlight a little. The attention was always a little different when it was the kids – the  _teams_ – giving it to him. Especially when it came to downright positive attention. Hell, he was still learning how to deal with it from Clover, let alone a bunch of teenagers.

“If anyone here looks amazing, it's all of you guys. But it's still cold out here, so let's just... get inside and find our table before all our ankles freeze off,” he told them smoothly, gently taking his jacket back from Yang.

He really didn't mind Solitas' climate, it just... never really agreed with him in the long term, and probably never would as long as he lived. And he knew it was more than just the bird talking, too.

Red eyes watched the teams as they filed in, Weiss leading the way, and the wistful smile found him. They really had all put in an amazing effort to look their utter best for the night. The girls looked utterly stunning in their finest dresses, and even the boys had primped and preened in dress shirts and pressed pants.

They looked a lot less like kids every day, and that thought made something in his chest ache.

The sigh fell from him as he brushed it away. Then again, they all had to grow up one day, and they'd already done a  _hell_ of a lot of growing. He was proud of how far they'd all come. Utterly so. And he knew he would be for the rest of his life.

He only wished...

No, he thought to himself with a warm smile, shaking his head softly. No more wishes of the past for tonight, he mused. Only for the future.

He reached up to press a hand to his shoulder, giving it another slow roll as the breath slipped from him. If he had the choice, he certainly didn't want to spend the next few hours sitting down, but he also certainly wasn't going to fight his nieces on it, either. Not when they'd already planned all this.

Qrow followed after the teams, entering the warmth of the restaurant, delicate piano chords reaching his ears. He politely declined when someone offered to take his coat, and made his way to their lengthy table near a vast window. As expected, there was the usual level of excitement from their gathering, and he was now completely convinced that none of them had even imagined there were this many fork varieties in the world.

Ruby was sitting near the head of the table, Yang seated beside her, and he slipped in opposite his younger niece, draping his jacket over the chair as he went. The blonde was animatedly talking with Blake at her side, and Oscar who was seated next to him, but Ruby seemed distracted by her scroll; the faint crease settling on her brow.

Qrow poured himself a glass of water and sat forward, elbows on the table. “Penny for your thoughts?”

She blinked up at him, popping out of her stupor. “Oh, um. Nothing serious. Just, um... just something on the news about the election again,” she told him softly. “Seems to be all doom and gloom lately,” she added with a soft laugh, tucking the device away. The huntsman swirled his glass lightly, propping his chin into an upturned hand.

“You're telling me. But there's not much that can be done from our point of view; we've just gotta ride this storm out as much as the people of Mantle are,” he agreed simply.

Ruby gave him a faint smile as she sighed quietly. She knew he had a solid point, and... politics certainly weren't her strong suit, but she was learning. As they all were, really. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it softly. The huntsman could only smile warmly at her, placing his glass back to the table.

“Hey, don't stress about it. Whatever happens, happens,” he told her gently. “We're all huntsmen and huntresses here, and we'll do what we've always done – protect the people, whatever that means.”

There was a beat of time and the soft huff of a laugh found him glancing down at the table.

“... whether it be something as simple as that, or anything else.”

The soft words slipped from him without thinking, and he couldn't stop the warmth that found its way to the back of his throat.

How long had it been since those same words graced him? Weeks? Gods it felt like weeks, when it had barely been one. He still knew the exact way it left the feeling in his chest – the same way it did now – and he resisted the urge to run fingers over his sternum.

“I think that's a good way of putting it...” Ruby's voice softly intruded on his thoughts, drawing red eyes back to hers. She sat back in her chair, smiling back at him as she picked through her words carefully. “It's why we all started this in the first place. It's why we're all here tonight; we saw a need in the world, and decided to be the ones to step up and fix it. It can be hard at times, sure... That's... what life's all about. But we always do what we can, no matter how big or small the problem is.

“If we can't do that... well... we may as well give up on the idea that being a huntsman is our calling.”

Qrow felt that feeling in his chest constrict as he stared back at her. He swallowed through a tight throat as he sat back slowly, keeping his gaze firmly on hers. Then the warm smile grew, spreading across his entire expression with utter fondness and he shook his head faintly at her.

“... when did you grow up so fast...” he breathed absently.

Ruby blinked back at him, giving a faint laugh at his words. “Ah, kind of... a while ago, I guess. I mean, I  _am_ nearly eighteen! And we  _did_ travel a lot, and see a whole bunch of stuff along the way.”

Her words wrought the soft laugh from the huntsman, and he shook his head again. He couldn't quite tell if his words had gone over her head entirely, but he was sure she was deflecting the compliment. If anyone could spot what  _that_ looked liked, it was certainly him.

“Saved the day a few times as well, if I recall,” he told her, choosing to roll with it.

A waiter reached past Qrow's shoulder, offering the man a wine list, and the huntsman glanced at it for a brief moment before holding his hand up to decline politely.

“Just a... pot of tea, thanks,” he asked simply, returning his attention back to his niece. “How about you?”

Ruby perked at the question, hand shooting into the air. “Oh! Can I have some as well, thanks? With lemon!”

The waiter nodded to both and stepped back from them, moving along the line of the table. Weiss nodded politely to the waiter as she ordered a round of appetisers for the table, to begin with; gods knew they'd all burn through the food pretty quickly, so it was best not to let them all wait. Qrow allowed his eyes to close briefly, feeling the kink in muscles pull at his shoulders as he shifted in his seat lightly. Gods he really didn't want to start seizing up already. As it was, he was probably going to need to excuse himself a couple of times during the night, just to stretch out, lest he really  _did_ seize up entirely where he sat.

He reached up, absently rubbing his neck with a quiet exhale, fingers finding a sharp knot where it met his shoulder. Brows pinched at the faint tweak of discomfort that ran through him, knowing he'd have to do  _something_ about this feeling sooner or later.

Red eyes blinked open to find Yang staring straight back at him, amused looking smirk on her face.

“What's so funny, punk?” he ground out, though it held no venom.

She sat back in her chair, her expression shifting to one of downright smugness. Qrow didn't know what to expect from her and his brow merely pinched as she tapped her finger lightly on the tablecloth, waiting him out.

“Nothing at all,” she replied, all sweetness and honey. “You just look like you could use a hand with that.”

Red eyes blinked back at her, a little lost for a moment.

“Or maybe... _two_ hands.”

Yang all but ginned devilishly at him.

“Two very _strong_ hands.”

For a long beat of time, Qrow could only stare back at her, completely missing the implications of her words before he began to lower his hand from his neck. The simple slide of his fingers hit him like a truck and he had to tamp down on the realisation, lest it pull at his expression too much.

Oh he  _knew_ who she was inferring, and two could play at this game.

He drew in a steadying breath, letting his elbow sit on the table, resting his chin on the back of his hand as he smiled back at her, all warmth and softness.

“What, you offering to help your poor, dying uncle out? That's sweet of you, firecracker,” he replied smoothly.

“Ooh, I'll bet she give the _best_ massages, too!” Nora piped up from along the table.

“Aw, that's a really nice gesture, Yang,” Oscar added from next to Qrow.

The huntsman kept his stare evenly on the blonde, watching with  _utter_ enjoyment at how her words began to fray and unravel about her. He knew just how to play into the hand he was dealt, and he was  _enjoying_ watching her internally flounder.

Frustrated colour rose to Yang's cheeks and Qrow couldn't help throw the brief, almost missable wink at her, his own smile broadening.

She made no reply as she raised her glass to her lips, nearly all but pouting into it. Oh she was  _going_ to tease him about the operative, and he was  _going_ to stumble and falter one of these days. She just had to remind herself that Qrow had a lifetime of emotional armour under his belt, and it would take more than a little needling to get him to crack.

Qrow himself had a pretty decent idea that he'd just made a dangerous enemy, but he wasn't about to let it ruin an otherwise good night out.

Though it  _did_ give him something to speak about with the man in question later on.

Movement stirred beside him once more, and he glanced down to the pot of tea that was placed next to him, mouthing his thanks to the waiter as he went about pouring himself a cup.

“Since when did you drink tea?” Weiss asked with a raised brow, glancing past Oscar. Qrow glanced up from where he sat the pot to the side, fingers falling to the delicate cup. He opened his mouth to speak when he found that words had all but dried up on his tongue.

When...  _did_ he start drinking tea?

He occasionally had in the past, especially if he needed something warm to drink, or fingers craved something hot to hold, but more often than not, it was always coffee. Brows came together in a faint crease as he tried to think of how it had become so natural to him as of late.

Realisation settled over him. Not with a resounding peal, or great alarm, but in the soft stillness of recognition. He knew where it had stemmed from, and flickers of memory began to sift through his mind like smoke, wringing gentle warmth to his chest.

It was the quiet tones of a shared meal in a small noodle shop, as two people spoke of themselves, and of the past.

It was in the way that an aching sadness began to leave his bones, and how he had been clung to so tight it hurt.

It was how they had laughed softly, shoulders brushing, a gleaming sunset their only witness as breath fogged about them.

It was in a brief silence whilst on patrol, fingers grazing as a thermos was shared between them.

It was as mugs sat forgotten on a kitchen bench, the two of them finding preferable warmth in a shared embrace as kisses were stolen from a laughing mouth.

Fingertips brushed faintly down the side of the cup, as he lost himself briefly to the memories that seemed so ingrained into his heart. His smile settled warm on his features as red eyes were caught in the surface of the liquid.

“Guess I just... wanted a change...”

The answer slipped from him, as simple as that, and yet it held so much truth that it hurt. It ached in his chest in a way he couldn't really describe. He'd wanted a change in his life for... gods, so long now. And all it really took was one foot in front of the other.

“Well, Solitas _is_ the perfect place for a warm cup of tea,” Blake intoned softly, fingers delicately holding her own cup.

Qrow brought his cup to his lips, lingering over the scent and heat. “Yeah, you got that right...” he breathed.

There was a faint ding from Ruby's scroll and she glanced down at it, distracted briefly. In the same moment of time, the waiters reappeared, moving down the line of the table as meal orders were taken; more often than not hastily scribbled out as minds were changed and better, tastier things spotted.

It seemed worlds away from what they were all so used to, but the night really was about getting their breaths back; about celebrating their achievements. It really might have been in a class far above their own, but it was also a night about just having fun with it.

The simple laughter and excited chatter never ceased as they all sat with friends. Friends who had fast become family.

They would all do whatever it took to ensure each other's safety and happiness, no matter the cost. In their short time together, they already had.

Jaune called out softly to Oscar, bringing the boy's attention to him. “Hey, uh... Ren and I want to talk to you about a new strategy we thought of earlier; y'know, just want to get your opinion on it,” he explained up the table.

Oscar perked at that, blinking back at him for a moment. “Oh!” The soft exclamation fell from him as he started pulling out his chair. “Uh, that sounds great!” He grabbed up his glass, already on the move.

“Sure, leave me to the wolves up here,” Qrow remarked with a faint smirk as he leant elbows on the table, resting his chin atop folded hands.

“I'll be back in a second, don't worry,” came the quick reply, and he moved to the far end of the table, parking himself next to the blond. The animated conversation between the three of them began almost immediately, and Qrow could only watch them with a smile.

In such an incredibly short amount of time, Oscar had really come along as one of their own. For being thrown in the deep end as he had, he'd adapted and overcome everything that came his way. True, at the start, it might've been nothing but the influence of Ozpin taking him under his wing, but he'd learnt in a hurry how to stand on his own two feet.

How to fight. How to survive.

He was as much of an asset to their extended team as any of the others.

The boy had a brilliant mind, and he was as sharp as a sliver of glass; without his strategic input on a number of skirmishes, they would've all been in sorry spots. It brought the warm smile to his face, and the melancholy ache to his chest once more.

They really all were growing up so fast around him...

Especially considering who it was that Oscar held so deep in his heart.

The boy had no choice in the matter – absolutely no say in his own life – when that man threatened to smother everything that made him Oscar. Brows pinched at the thought of losing him for good, once Ozpin finally resurfaced, and it made the ache in his chest grow. What did that even feel like? To be pushed aside and smothered in such a way that you were just... overtaken? Forgotten?

Nothing more than another vessel for the man.

Red eyes closed at the melancholy thought.

No one deserved that kind of thing...

There was a sharp gasp from Nora that jerked him viciously from his thoughts, and red eyes darted to her, finding her utterly enamoured by the appearance of the waiters with their first round of food. He blinked a few times, bringing himself back to the present as he sat back, hands retracting and fingers curling absently.

He needed to stop losing himself like that. Especially tonight.

There would be more time to think on it later; to discuss it with the boy in question. For now, it was all about celebrating what they  _did_ have, with friends and shared family.

Larger plates were placed before them all in the centre of the table, laced with all manner of delectable, warm starters, the smell already making his stomach perk. He absently realised the snack that he'd had as soon as he arrived back in his room had done him no favours. Now he  _really_ wished he'd had time to hunt earlier because it all smelt so utterly wonderful.

Smaller plates were placed before each of them, and Qrow absently glanced at the empty chair next to him. Either Oscar hadn't realised they were starting their first course, or-

His brow furrowed lightly as he ducked his gaze over to the boy in question, his own plate before him where he still sat with Ren and Jaune. The huntsman leant back in his seat, one arm slung over the back and ignoring the way his muscles pulled at the action, catching the eye of one of the waiters.

“Hey, ah, we're set for one too many here,” he told him softly.

“Apologies, sir, but the reservation was for ten,” came the simple explanation.

Unseen by the two of them, silver eyes had widened sharply, mouth occupied by a rather large chunk of garlic bread. Ruby reached under the table, rapidly thwapping her sister's leg a few times in a hasty demand for attention. Yang snapped her head around, following that stressed out gaze, violet eyes widening and drawing a tense breath at the conversation.

The idiot was about to  _ruin_ his own surprise.

Qrow's brow creased in confusion. “Ten?”

“Sorry I'm late.”

The voice came from behind the waiter, who graciously stepped back in light of his appearance, and Qrow felt everything about him still, the restaurant suddenly muted behind him in a soft breath.

In the same beat of time as the words were spoken, Qrow felt something in his chest tighten, and all thought vanished from him.

Red eyes widened faintly as his entire expression went slack, gaze sweeping up to Clover as the operative approached them. Gone was his usual attire. In it's place was a stunning navy dress shirt, fitting snug to his form and accentuating already broad shoulders in a way that, somehow, bare arms could never dream to emulate.

White dress slacks clung easily to him, and Qrow knew it was already beyond rude to keep staring, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the man if he tried. His eyes fell to neatly shined black shoes, and he realised somewhere in the back of his mind that he recalled seeing those in his apartment once, but couldn't quite remember where.

His gaze drew back up to arms, and he caught the faint glint at his cuffs. Qrow in his state, couldn't even work up the snort of a response to what he saw. Of course the man owned cufflinks in the shape of his namesake. Why wouldn't he.

“What'd I miss?” the man asked gently, rattling the huntsman from his thoughts.

Fingers reached for the huntsman's shoulder, bringing him back a little from the stupor he'd fallen into, and Clover could only smile warmly down at him. Some part of him would  _never_ get used to how he could utterly shake his tree with something as simple as his very appearance, and he kind of wanted to see how often he could do it.

Qrow  _really_ didn't know how to function for a moment, and it took everything he had in him to remember how to swallow through a dry throat. Red eyes couldn't tear away from green, flitting between them as lips parted, words entirely lost to him, all witticism and dry humour gone.

It was a gentle cue for the operative, who simply pulled out the chair next to the huntsman, sliding easily into it, as if it was where he always intended to sit, and never once breaking his eye contact with the other. Fingers slipped from his shoulder as he leant back in his chair, resting his hand on the table, as a cufflink glinted faintly in the dim light.

Qrow could just about feel his heart echoing in his ears, and he blinked a few times, drawing a soft breath.

“... not a thing,” came the murmur of a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the fun begin :D
> 
> As to that fanart, super credit goes to Lo, who gave us the wonderful image of Clover and Qrow all dressed up and everywhere to go. Please check out the rest of her work, because she does them some incredible justice <3
> 
> https://bit.ly/3gh8JZO


	17. Taunting And Toasting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads up, the next chapter will be delayed a little due to me participating in Fair Game Week! The stories will be uploaded here, as well as my tumblr, but it's likely that this fic won't see any movement until after the event has ended <3

It took him a handful of time to scrape together the fact that his brain had all but entirely shut down, and Qrow cleared his throat softly, hastily ducking his gaze away to the table in front of him. He had to, otherwise it would just be a cycle of forgetting how to breathe all over again.

Gods above and below but that was... not at  _ all _ what he was expecting.

Not  _ who _ he was expecting.

Especially when the operative looked like that. He'd obviously gone to just as much effort as the teams to dress up in his finest attire, and not only that, he  _ knew _ Clover had nothing but scheduled meetings for the rest of the afternoon. How in the  _ hell _ had he managed- He couldn't have-

And he looked like  _ that- _

His heart was hammering in his ears, and he could feel the heat stampeding across his cheeks. Red eyes blinked a few times, trying to reorient himself but completely incapable of doing that one simple task.

An elbow plonked on the table and he buried his face within it, wanting the world to just... pause for a second. Where was that gods-forsaken Lamp when he needed it...

There was a soft laugh at his side and he felt his heart skitter in his chest at the gentle tone. Oh that sound was  _ not  _ helping matters at  _ all  _ right now.

Yang gave her sister a brief nudge to the ankle at the sight, grinning like the cat who just got the cream. Oh this was already going  _ so splendidly.  _ Their uncle was all but putty in the hands of a man who hadn't even  _ done _ anything yet.

He had it  _ bad _ .

“I did try to be here a little earlier, but there was a bit more work than usual to wrap up,” Clover's words drifted through to Qrow's senses somehow. “You'd be surprised how hard it is to find a spare snow plow after a snowstorm,” he added with a laugh. The words brought the faint curl of amusement to Qrow's lips, and he could feel himself starting to come down a little.

It was just surprising, that's all. Really,  _ really _ surprising. And it just took him a few moments to get the image of Clover in a suit out of his brain. Gods above, he'd already seen him without his shirt off – a downright impressive sight nonetheless – but something about the way the dark fabric lay across him just-

“Thanks again for the invitation,” the man continued, blissfully cutting off his rapidly derailing thoughts from behind his hand.

Red eyes blinked open faintly, ears perking at that.

“Aw, it was nothing,” Ruby answered brightly. “You've already helped us out so much, what with all the missions and training and everything. So it just felt kinda right to invite you.”

Invite  _ just _ Clover, huh kiddo, came the piercing thought, and red eyes glanced up at the girl between fingers.

Oh now if this wasn't the setup of the century, he didn't know what was. He drew in a steadying breath, glad that he was feeling something other than rampaging teenage hormones once more, and gently lowered his hand, letting his arm rest on the table.

“Well, thank you again all the same,” the man replied. “You're doing an amazing job out there, so tonight is the least I could do to help say thanks.”

Something about the way those words sat in the air brought faint curiosity to the forefront of Qrow's mind, but he knew well enough to tuck it away. He'd eventually get the full story from the girls, which  _ reminded _ him-

Red eyes glanced sharply back at the two of them, ducking between one mildly guilty looking face and one very smug looking brat. The blonde leant forward, cradling her chin in her hand as she continued to grin at him.

“Oh hey there Uncle Qrow, so glad of you to join us again,” Yang remarked.

Dark brows pinched and he resisted the urge to sigh as his gaze snapped between the two across from him. “We are  _ so _ having a family meeting later,” he murmured. There was a soft brush of fabric at his knee, Clover nudging him gently, and it helped to tone down some of the roiling frustration a little.

Marginally, but he was still going to put Yang in a headlock like he promised himself earlier.

“But Uncle Qrow, everyone else turned down the invite!” Ruby pressed, hoping to at least turn the tide on his mood. “Weiss couldn't even get Winter to come along for an hour!”

“She had other obligations for tonight,” Clover interjected, hoping to help.

“Wednesdays are always report wrap-ups, so getting her to budge from that would be a scheduling nightmare,” Weiss intoned from next to Clover.

Qrow reached for his tea, bringing it to his lips. “...gods, you are  _ all _ terrible liars...” he all but breathed into it, taking a sharper swig than was probably necessary, feeling the pull of a muscle in his neck. Placing it down once more to the delicate clink of a saucer, he released the sigh that was sitting on his tongue, letting some of the tension uncoil from his body. Alright. He could keep going with this. He could survive a night on the town with his girls.

Who were sitting across from Clover.

He was trying desperately not to think of all the ways his semblance – and his  _ girls _ , given this turn of events – could ruin such a decent evening, but for the life of him, it was hard to focus on a single thought when warmth still blossomed at his knee. It shifted every so often, bumping lightly against him, brushing against fabric. A steadying contact in the storm that had settled over his thoughts.

Did Clover know how singularly distracting it was, or was it all entirely on purpose?

He resisted the urge to give in to the sigh on his tongue; Qrow knew he hadn't meant to react the way he did when the sight of the man came into view but... he clearly had no idea how he looked. Or he did, which was even  _ worse.  _ He couldn't help the need to swallow tightly once more, and he glanced over at him.

The man in question was chatting easily with both Blake and Weiss, the former absolutely enamoured with the story he was telling, and the girl at his side honest to gods laughing at him. It was a sight that helped loosen the tightness in his chest, and he found himself just as entranced with the way he smiled now, as he had all those nights ago.

The meal wasn't as extravagant as all this, but it was made with love by a woman who had also laughed at his stories. Nothing but a simple muffin, atop a water tower, watching the gleaming velvet sky and Atlas slung above them so high.

The night that he knew...

That he realised.

Warmth settled in his stomach, and he couldn't help the need to let his hand rest there lightly, fingertips lightly worrying a button of his shirt. Ruby, bless her sweet soul, said nothing of his distraction as she intruded on his thoughts. He allowed the faint smile to ghost across his lips and drew his attention back to her as conversation continued between them once more. She might have felt more than a little guilty for deceiving her uncle, but he knew it came from a place where she cared deeply for him. He could never hold that against her, just as she knew there would never be any lingering resentment over the action.

The same couldn't really be said for Yang, however, and he was quietly waiting for the next round of shameless ribbing to begin.

Ruby laughed softly, and Qrow couldn't help the way his smile brightened at the sound. He returned her own gentle words with his own soft teasing, and her laughter rang out like the peal of a bell, light and resounding. It was a sound he'd never tire of hearing, and he prayed to whatever gods were left that it never left her.

Yang leant into the conversation, and it soon turned into story after story of adventures and pranks of years gone by, all of them lost to the mirth that spilled about the table.

All of it shared between found family and good food.

It almost felt like time had been cruelly lost between the three of them, and it was with an absent brush to the back of his mind, that he realised he had missed this. Missed out on  _ all _ of this. Oh he knew of some of their stories, and more than enough of their adventures and pranks, but to his mind, it felt almost as if he were an outsider looking in.

He brought his cup to his lips, lingering over the last of its warmth.

He'd been apart from his family for too long, he realised. Through obligation, through time lost, through his own failings... His own countless mistakes. The brush of those stirring thoughts at the back of his mind turned to ash as he savoured the last of his tea.

He was done with that now. Done with failing himself and those around him. The only thing he could do now was hold on tight to what was left.

And he refused to go down without a fight.

Clover hesitated for a moment, barely pausing in his words as he felt a scant brush of warmth at his thigh. Without so much as breaking his stride, he lightly thumbed at his collar, and brushed the hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing it absently before it settled into his lap, words continuing to flow from him.

There was a faint curl of a finger at his, and the two laced together in a loose connection to the other; a needed anchor, just as it always had been.

The operative slipped away from his conversation, letting the two girls fill in his absence, and green eyes turned to meet Qrow's. Red eyes were watching him in a way that seemed to still the entire world about him, and Clover felt the warmth settle deep in his chest.

The weight of that gaze upon him was enough to get him to shift, hand curling further into the other's under the table, fingers threading together properly.

It might have been little more than the atmosphere around them, but Qrow could do little else but simply stare back at the man next to him. In the dim light, green eyes shone with a hidden warmth, just for him, and the gentle piano chords echoed with the same song in his chest.

The whole world could have fallen down about him, and the fingers curled into his own would be all he needed to survive it.

As it was, the two of them had barely realised how conversation about their table had settled somewhat. There was still the usual level of noise to be expected from a group of teenagers, but it didn't stop the very pointed gazes lingering upon them, or the added whispers and broad smiles.

Blake couldn't help the soft sigh that slipped from her as she watched the two of them in quiet adoration. She was more than happy that the huntsman had finally found his place with someone. He'd seen more than his fair share of heartaches, and even moreso that she wasn't privy to. It was something that never needed to be spoken, yet when Yang and Ruby watched him some days...

She knew there was a deep pain in their eyes.

She'd caught snatches of his life in the words he'd said, seen firsthand what it was like when he tried to drown his sorrows, only to come up gasping for air like a man dying all over again.

She knew a lot about keeping that kind of pain close to her heart. But she knew even more about letting it out into the world, and reaching up towards an outstretched hand.

It had been a gradual shift, something she wasn't even sure as to when it began, but she just knew... it was there. Fingers settled at her stomach, ghosting across a scar of her own, and the simple shift of movement brought attention to herself. From beside her, violet eyes turned to face her with a warm smile, and Blake couldn't help but return the simple gesture.

Fingers brushed hers under the table and threaded together with ease.

She knew what it was like to hurt, but she also knew with startling clarity what it was like to heal. And she was more than proud that Qrow had found the start of his healing.

“Hey.”

The soft word from Yang had her stirring back to the present, and she focused on those violet eyes, giving a soft murmur of acknowledgement.

Lips curled into a soft smile. “You're staring,” came the gentle tease.

Blake couldn't help the quiet laugh that slipped from her.

“Your makeup's smudged...” she answered softly. She reached up with her free hand to tap a finger to the centre of Yang's forehead. “Right there.”

The blonde refused to pout, but she couldn't stop the softly frustrated sigh from slipping out, smile still tinting her expression.

“I have a jerk for an uncle,” she said by way of simple explanation.

Blake could only smile back at her as the waiters returned, moving with delicate precision to clear away plates and glasses. They sat back easily as the man leant around them, giving fingers a final squeeze before slipping apart once more.

There was a soft noise of excitement from both ends of the table. Nora had once again spied their incoming food, yet she had some serious competition from both Ruby and Jaune. All delicious manner of creamy pastas, decadently seared meats, succulent vegetables, richly seasoned breads and more had finally arrived. Everything they had ordered looked stunning, and as each plate was placed before them, the smell from it all was almost too much for any of them to bear.

Qrow closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, relishing the rich scent that filled his senses. Alright, there were  _ definitely _ perks to using the Schnee name when it came to finding a decent place to eat. He still didn't like the idea of dressing up to the nines to enjoy said good meal, but it was a  _ damn _ good meal nonetheless.

The smooth curl of a laugh bubbled up from next to him and he glanced down at the plate that was placed before Clover; the man all but grinning from ear to ear as Green eyes ducked up to Ruby.

“Now how'd you know I like fish?” he asked brightly.

Qrow couldn't help the soft snort that fell from him at the question, smile crossing his lips easily and earning him the quirk of a brow. He met that gaze and almost shook his head at him.

“Really?” the word all but laughed from him.

“Something you'd like to share with the class?” Clover's soft taunt found his ears, and red eyes downright sparkled in mirth. Qrow leant an elbow on the table, resting his cheek on a loosely closed fist.

“You're telling me your weapon is a giant fishing rod, and  _ don't _ expect people to guess that?”

The laughter spilled easily from him, and he drew his hand away, letting it curl on the table before him. Clover could only smile broadly back at him, feeling his own mirth tickle his senses at the man's unbridled happiness at the statement. He shook his head lightly.

“Alright, fair point,” he conceded, bringing his hands to the air in surrender. “Still a lucky guess though.”

Qrow gave another huff of amusement as he reached for his cutlery. “You are incorrigible,” he groused softly, though it was without malice.

“It's what you like best about me,” came the smooth reply.

“Hm, I do wonder about that...” Qrow returned easily. “It's got nothing at all to do with the endless talk of luck or good fortunes,  _ that's  _ for sure.” And with that, he popped the first bite of his meal into his mouth, savouring it's rich warmth. Gods, but the Atlas elite sure knew how to deliver on incredible food, and he couldn't help but close his eyes at it, almost giving in to the soft groan that sat in his throat.

The soft sound of amusement fell from Clover as he watched the huntsman for a moment. It might not have been as intimate as a tiny noodle shop in the heart of the city, but he knew that expression well. Qrow certainly seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve when it came to food, and the operative was already idly wondering what else his tastebuds took a fancy to.

At this rate, he'd have to start making a list of places to take him.

He turned his attention back to his own meal, cutting into the perfectly seared fillet and holding it up to inspect it lightly. He'd have to remember to thank the chef later; it was about as perfectly cooked as he'd seen in years.

It was his own turn to all but melt into his chair, and the delicate flavour that hit him was damn near perfect. It was so hard to find good seafood this far into the continent, and it was always a downright pleasure to find someone who treated it with such respect.

He couldn't stop the contented sigh that fell from him as he took another bite. Ruby had done amazingly well to pick it out of the entire menu; he'd certainly have to thank her, as well.

Green eyes blinked open once more, landing on the girl in question, yet he was almost immediately distracted by the way Yang was watching him all too intently, her meal seemingly forgotten with his she turned her fork in her fingers. He could just about see the wheels ticking over behind her calculating stare, and he swallowed his mouthful, waiting for the words he knew lay on her tongue.

Ruby was one thing when it came to having discussions that made him squirm, but with the look Yang was bestowing upon him, he didn't know what to expect.

“So Clover, I've got a question for you,” she began simply.

Red eyes snapped onto her in sharp focus, knowing the  _ exact  _ tone of her voice. Oh gods above and below, he cursed to himself as he swallowed his own mouthful down and trying not to choke in the process, needing to be able to cut her off if she tried anything drastic.

Clover, bless his innocent soul, gestured lightly to the girl. “Fire away,” he replied, taking his life into his hands and pointedly ignoring the way the entire table had somehow zeroed in on the discussion between the two.

Yang leant forward, elbow on the table and resting her chin casually on the back of a metallic hand. Clover felt a little like he was staring down a wolf, just waiting for the lunge, and by the expression on her face, she already had her fangs in place.

“I saw those eyes you were making earlier, and I really wanna know...” she paused for simple dramatic effect and Qrow almost felt his heart stop.

“How long  _ have _ you been dating my uncle?”

The silence clattered about them, quite literally as a fork dropped to a plate somewhere along the table. All conversation scratched to a tumultuous halt as everyone's widened gaze darted between the two combatants. Green eyes went almost comically wide, and he sucked in a breath so hard it caught on the back of his throat, wringing the sharp hacking sound from him.

“ _ What? _ ” he coughed into his hand.

“Wait,  _ what? _ ”

Jaune's voice all but echoed above the noise of the restaurant, bringing a further resounding silence to the entirety of the place.

Red eyes shot wide open above the matching colour that stampeded across his cheeks, and Qrow could only think of all the ways he was going to write to Taiyang and tell him how tragic it was that his daughter was murdered by his own hands in Atlas that night.

“I dunno Yang,  _ how long have you been dating Blake? _ ” he sputtered out in sharp, unthinking, instant retort, watching the immediate way her face writhed in shock. Yang leant back in her seat sharply, matching the rampant colour that splashed across her uncle's cheeks, violet eyes wide as she damn near swallowed her own tongue.

In the ravenous silence surrounding everyone, there was suddenly a sharp bark of elation from Nora at the swift retaliation. The girl soon lost herself entirely to the laughter that tore through her, one fist banging on the table and thoroughly enjoying the dinner entertainment.

“Wait,  _ what? _ ”

Oscar's voice barely registered above the howling of laughter across from him, shock plastered across his entire expression.

Clover was still stuck in place, eyes locked onto Yang's and clearly not knowing how to process sitting at a table with a bunch of teenagers as well as he thought he could. He closed his mouth which had hung open like a stunned goldfish, and was about to think about replying to the girl when the soft snuffling of giggles registered in his brain.

He glanced to her side, seeing that Blake had pressed a hand to her mouth, rapidly failing to contain the soft laughter that bubbled over. She soon gave up entirely and all but doubled over as the bright sound spilled freely from her. Her brow was creased in heady mirth as her hair fell about her face, slipping away when she leant back in her seat, tipping her head back as she lost herself entirely to the feeling.

Soon enough, the soft sound started up with Ruby, joining her teammate in the bright laughter, and it spilled down the line. Weiss found the sharp laughter escaping her, Jaune felt it bursting from him, Oscar had a hand pressed to his cheek as he couldn't control the giggles.

Even Qrow had to admit defeat as he placed his elbow to the table, burying his face behind a hand, his body shaking with mirth as the broad smile found him. Clover laughed with abandon at his side, and for the longest moment, he wanted to hold onto this feeling; clutch it tight to his chest and squeeze it close.

It was the single most important thing this rag-tag group of teenagers had brought to Atlas with them; something that had been missing from his own life so dearly.

Light.

Laughter.

Simple, unbridled joy.

In threw into stark contrast the lack of warmth that had been surrounding him for his entire career, despite how friendly and open he seemed to carry himself around others. He had missed this. And it really did make him yearn for his years as a cadet.

They'd also brought with them a treasure more precious than silver or gold. More precious even than the Lamp; something that would surely help them turn the tide against this losing war.

They harboured hope.

No matter what battles they fought, whether it be with weapons or words, they'd already proved time and time again that they would never give up. They would never stop forging a path into the future. They would never rest until they had fulfilled their singular goal of safeguarding those they fought for.

They were the finest group of huntsmen and huntresses he'd ever had the good fortune of meeting.

One by one, as they slowly began coming back from the utter joy that had overtaken them, laughter dying down to delighted giggles and brief spurts of breathlessness. Weiss was still wiping the tears from her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup.

Ruby, still with a hand pressed to her chest and a broad smile on her face, was the first to recover fully, and she stood up, calling soft attention to herself. Weiss gently tapped the side of her glass, politely asking for silence from the rest of the rabble, though no one could really wipe the smiles from their faces.

“Ah, everyone,” she began unsteadily. She hadn't really planned on anything big or extravagant, and now that she was the centre of attention, she felt her heart already thudding in her chest. Fingers brushed hers, and she glanced down at her sister, giving her hand a firm squeeze. She smiled warmly down at the blonde, returning the squeeze as she moved to the head of the table.

“Tonight is all about you guys. About us,” she continued, voice stronger, just letting her heart speak for her, and allowing the words to roll out unbidden. “About a choice that we all made over three years ago, but even more importantly... about a choice we made when we all decided we'd be the ones to help Remnant, no matter what the cost.”

She brought her hands to the tablecloth, beaming at each smiling face that surrounded her. “We  _ chose _ the path to become huntsmen and huntresses. To fight impossible odds. To fight against the the oppression and tyranny of our world. To stand up for what's right. And tonight, we're here to celebrate the fact that we've already made it this far on our journey.”

Her words faltered as she felt emotion swell in her chest, but she tamped it down, knowing she still had so much more to say. She brought a hand to her chest, curling lightly.

“And we couldn't have done it without the strength of each other at our side,” she told them solemnly. “Through whatever has come our way, we've overcome any and all sorts of diversity and hardship. We've pressed on. We've made it  _ so far _ for just a bunch of kids from Beacon.”

She allowed the huff of a laugh to escape her. “I mean, we're in Atlas, of all places in the  _ world!  _ For the longest time, I never thought I'd leave Patch, let alone Vale.”

Warmth covered her hand still on the table, and she glanced down at her uncle, smiling so fondly at her that it splintered in her chest. Heat gathered behind her eyes and she blinked a little, wishing it away for now. Just a little longer...

“We've still got such a long way to go,” she continued, returning her eyes to the sea of warm faces before her. “And it seems almost a little silly to be celebrating what feels like such a tiny thing in comparison. But... that's also what makes us who we are. If we can't celebrate the little victories in our lives, then we lose sight of what really matters.”

Fingers squeezed around hers.

“We lose sight of  _ who _ matters in our lives...”

She reached down to collect her glass, holding it before her. “So tonight, we're celebrating as more than just a bunch of kids from Beacon. More than just friends. More than what it says on our licenses.”

A short steadying breath shook from her. “We're celebrating as family.”

Along the line of the table, everyone raised their own glasses, fond warmth spilling between them so easily.

“To family,” Jaune all but breathed into the air between them all.

The lingering silence brushed across each of them, allowing everyone at the table to gather themselves. Hands brushed along shoulders, warm fingers squeezed tight to others, temples were pressed together as soft laughter spilled from all of them. Ruby turned her hand within her uncle's, squeezing it gently. It truly was as she'd said.

They were family through and through, and they would do anything to protect one another.

“Which brings me... to the second part of why we're all here tonight,” she continued, hand still held by her uncle's, and her heart still hammered in her chest.

“We've all been through a lot in such a short amount of time, but... it's nothing compared to a lifetime of adversity.”

Silver eyes landed firmly on red, and Qrow had to blink back at her, not expecting this sudden shift. He didn't like the way those eyes and her words sent his heart skittering in his chest, either. He felt the tension begin to creep through his shoulders in a way that had nothing to do with the soreness of a vicious flight.

“Uncle Qrow, you've... been through a lot,” she trailed off in a softly nervous laugh, ducking her gaze away briefly. “Understatement, I know. But... you've always been there to catch us when we fall. All of us. Sometimes... kind of literally.”

He drew in the soft breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, eyes utterly caught on his niece – the  _ young woman  _ – speaking so gently to him. His chest felt tight at her words, and he almost missed the way steadying fingers brushed and held firmly to his thigh under the table.

“It's been a hard road for all of us, but we couldn't have done it without your support and guidance along the way,” she told him, and for a heartbeat of time, he was lost, caught in the memory of silver eyes not her own. In powerful words that sounded just like her; strong and influential and bringing them all resounding hope.

He blinked it away, ignoring the heat it brought to the back of his throat. When had she grown up so  _ fast _ ...

“It's even harder when you have to make tough choices, but... it's worth it when they're the best ones. Not just for those who care about you... but for you yourself.”

Her words faltered on her tongue, and she resisted the urge to give in to the well of nerves that sat in her stomach. She ignored the way her heart still echoed in her ears. She knew intimately what she needed to say. What he needed to hear, and she smiled down at him so gently it made his chest ache.

“We're all... so proud of you for making the toughest choice of all. For sticking with it no matter what. That kind of strength is something that every single one of us wish we had.”

Her words were a whisper, and she all but beamed down at him, heat glistening in her eyes as she squeezed his hand firmly.

“So... congrats on a month,” she told him simply.

For a moment, he couldn't breathe, the heavy weight of her words sinking deep into his chest and squeezing the life from him. It had him blinking red eyes between hers, utterly lost as to what he should say or do. How long had she been thinking of this? Planning on this?

How long had she waited to say those words to him?

How long had she  _ wanted _ ...

That thought wrought the shaky inhale deep into his lungs, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, taking a heartbeat of time for himself. He moved without thought as the wavering smile broke onto his lips. He stood, giving her hand a firm pull.

“C'mere, kiddo,” he breathed, already feeling ragged as he gathered her into a tight embrace, pressing lips to her hair as he shook against her. Slim arms wrapped around him, just as tight, squeezing out what little breath he had left in his body.

Warm arms suddenly embraced both of them as Yang encircled them both. He leant over, shifting his arms so he could wrap one tightly around both his girls, placing his cheek to a blonde crown as he pulled her in tight. He'd have to apologise for smearing her makeup later.

Weiss couldn't help the shaky sigh that fell from her, and blinking back her own tears at the sight, she pressed a hand to a warm shoulder next to her.

“Come on, up,” she murmured to Clover, and they both were. Moving over to the small group and joining in the firm hug; the man wrapping around all of them from behind Qrow, feeling his form trembling as he placed his cheek to the curve of a shoulder.

Their embrace grew as all of them got to their feet, moving to join in the already large group as they all squeezed together tightly. Qrow damn near thought his chest was about to burst with the ragged emotion that sat full behind his ribs, and it had nothing to do with the way he was being all bar crushed at the centre of the group. Ruby had been utterly right. They were far more than just a simple group of friends, far closer than family.

Blood could be separated. He'd learnt that the hard way throughout his life. But blood by choice... Well.

He'd do whatever it took to ensure this family's safety. He'd throw himself to the end of the world, fight tooth and nail, take every blow for them if it meant they'd survive.

Part of him still struggled. Still fought hard against the feeling that he deserved any of this recognition, any of this attention, yet more and more, he found the feeling quashed further and further down. Burying it deep within him until all he could feel was the firm embrace of his family around him.

It echoed deep in the back of his throat, rattling his very soul as it settled into his chest.

_ She told me... that all she's ever wanted for you was your happiness _ .

The words slipped into his thoughts as easily as a brush to his shoulder, and he couldn't stop the broken huff of a laugh that escaped him. All along, the words had been sitting there, waiting for him to realise their importance.

Waiting for him to know he really was a cherished part of this family.

_ She wants nothing more than for you to find it _ .

He pressed his lips firmly to blonde hair, turning as best as he could to do the same to her sister. He felt warmth shift at the back of his neck, and met the same glistening smile he wore. Qrow brushed his nose to the man's temple in a light nuzzle, and he couldn't stop the shaky exhale from leaving him.

It really was just as Ruby had said.

If he couldn't celebrate the little victories in his life, then he was going to lose sight of what really mattered.

Through the tight gaggle of warmth, he extracted an arm, palm rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to stop the horrendous leak he'd sprung, unable to keep the watery smile from his face.

“Thanks...” he breathed in a ragged whisper. “All of you. I just...”

Words failed him as he stared down at the proud faces of his girls – all of them, everyone, Clover – and he fought back against the rising tide of emotion once more.

“Not what I expected...” he gave out a huff of a laugh, blinking eyes that were more red than usual.

“You deserve it,” Weiss told him softly from between Clover and Ruby, offering him a somewhat watery but utterly warm smile. He caught her gaze for a moment, offering his own smile in response before he gently brushed a thumb to her cheek, catching some of the girl's tear trails and careful not to disturb her makeup.

“Then all I can say is thanks... for having my back,” he told them all, a little more firmly as he pushed to keep his voice steady. “For believing in me.”

“We couldn't have made it this far without you,” Jaune told him gently.

“You've helped us out so much since Beacon,” Nora added.

“It's about time we thanked you properly,” Blake said with an incline of her head.

“ _ And  _ celebrated with you,” Yang told him firmly.

Qrow couldn't help the huff of a laugh that fell from him again, and he closed red eyes as he fought off the warmth that wanted to flood from him. It felt utterly unbelievable that  _ this  _ was how the teams wanted to spend their evening, and even more so that he wasn't pushing them away outright.

How long had they planned this little ambush?

He scrubbed his hand across his eyes once more, blinking down at the lot of them. He released the short sigh that sat on his tongue, and he knew he probably looked a mess; yet in their eyes, he was part of the reason they were all celebrating tonight.

“You're all too much for this old man,” he laughed softly, fingers squeezing where he still had an arm around Ruby. “Come on. Let's finish dinner so we can  _ all  _ get cleaned up.”

One by one, they all withdrew from the huntsman to return to their seats, but not before hands squeezed on his shoulders, final hugs were given, and Yang reaching up to ruffle his hair playfully. He swatted at her, already reaching up to brush fingers through it, combing it straight back once more, bangs and all.

Clover lingered with him, bumping his shoulder lightly to draw his gaze over to him. Red eyes met green, and he caught the way lips quirked in amusement at him.

“I'm so glad I didn't pick you for your looks...” the man breathed, reaching up to brush the backs of fingers across his cheek, catching the last of his tear stains. Qrow couldn't help the soft breath of a laugh that fell from him, and his fingers collected in Clover's, threading together easily and holding them in place against his skin.

“But you deserve it,” he continued. “Every single word and more.”

Qrow brought those fingers to his lips in a gentle press of warmth.

“Stop it, you're gonna make me blush,” came the easy retort, despite the way heat had already gathered at his collar. He didn't think he could handle any more of this raw emotion tonight.

The man couldn't stop the broad smile he wore as he leant towards their hands, returning the gentle kiss to the back of Qrow's knuckles. He truly was proud of the huntsman, and even if he'd already been utterly smothered in adoration and affirmation by his teams, he knew he still had his own gift to give.

“Just kiss already!” Nora shot from along the table, earning her a sharp round of snickers and laughter.

Clover felt the brush of heat along his cheeks at the words, tactfully ignoring the way he wanted to run a hand along the back of his neck, but Qrow was vastly more used to how the girl operated, and he merely rolled his eyes at her.

“Tch, fine,” he grumbled, good-naturedly.

Without another word, he placed his free hand to the man's cheek, letting smiling lips find each other. There was a soft breath of a laugh between them before red eyes closed, savouring the warmth he'd come to know so well.

Their fingers gently unlaced from between them, Qrow feeling that hand brush along ribs, ghosting down his side and settling at the small of his back, pulling him flush to his form. The huntsman inhaled deeply through his nose, thumb brushing his cheek as he sought the expanse of his neck with his free hand.

How he wished that time really would stand still for them all.

He drew back a hair's breadth from the man, warm breath still lingering, and slivered red watched him with warm intent. Clover nuzzled him gently, and their smiles brushed once more.

“Gods, get a room,” Yang complained loudly.

Red eyes glanced in her direction, and in a show of complete maturity, Qrow stuck his tongue out at her. Clover could only laugh softly at the sight, giving the girl a simple shrug.

“Well, we were asked...” he conceded simply, as if it were all the reason he could give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GODS this was a fun chapter to write. Yang is the sassiest and I adore her. Qrow deserves all the hugs. And Nora knows just how to set the mood.
> 
> Again, the inspo for their outfits came from Lo and her wonderful art of the lads in their finest gear, so please do yourself a favour and check out the rest of her amazing work <3
> 
> https://bit.ly/3gh8JZO
> 
> Reminder, the next chapter will be delayed somewhat, due to me participating in Fair Game Week!


	18. Possessions And Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! There was a brief hiatus with Fair Game Week happening, but now it's back to these two goobers and their gaggle of kids.
> 
> This chapter actually has a song to go with it, too! _I'll Look Around_ by Madeleine Peyroux. Because what fancy Atlas restaurant doesn't have their own lounge singer at a grand piano amirite

It was as if a veil had been lifted from the table. The feeling, however slight, that things had changed. The light and laughter never left them all as they sat together, sharing their stories, and indulging in their warm slice of peace together.

Their family always knew how to find the brightest point of light in the darkest of tunnels.

It was a darkness that one of their own had been fighting to find his way out of for years on end, and it had always been a fruitless search. No matter how hard he looked, no matter how high he reached, there was always someone willing to turn away, to deny him.

It had been a lifetime of expected grief. One that had burned so deep into his chest.

Then, as if by the mere flip of a coin, fortune had fallen into his palm.

Hope, as it always did with their family, found him and its arms had wrapped firmly about his shoulders, guiding him to that which was once so lost to him.

His smile was the brightest they'd ever seen, his laugh the loudest as they joined together, his voice echoing with a brightness that had not been heard for years. As they all sat and spoke, and shared and laughed, he couldn't help but wipe away the tears that gathered in his eyes. They came not from shaky relief, or the swell of emotion so strong he thought he'd burst, but from pure, unbridled laughter.

The only kind their family knew how to bring.

Qrow had to draw himself back from the conversation more than once, unable to stop his shoulders from shaking as his mirth ran free, one hand pressed over his eyes as he tried desperately not to lose himself to it entirely.

How long had it been since he last felt such pure joy like this?

How long, since he had last laughed with abandon?

He felt his breath returning to him as he rubbed at his eyes again, glancing along the table at the sea of smiling faces. Their shared meal together had been long since finished, and between courses, the others had slowly filed out and back again; delicately preening, touching up makeup that had been smudged, and giggling softly as they tucked overflowing emotion back into it's proper place once more.

Qrow himself had taken a break between both their meals and the bright flow of the evening, stepping outside and relishing in the sharp bite of the cold night air on his skin. He breathed in the night air deeply, feeling its bite deep within his chest, and he relished the feeling. More than the break from his charges, he enjoyed the time to himself where he could stretch out sore limbs in peace, without anyone calling attention to the painful wince that would inevitably cross his expression. It still hurt like hell in some parts and with some movements; it was potentially the worst he'd been after a long flight for a while.

He was  _ really _ going to need that hot shower again before the night was up.

Dessert came upon his return, decadent with all manner of cream and caramel and succulent fruits and rich chocolate. It had only managed to fuel the elation surrounding them all. There was a heated debate as to whether or not they should all try something different, or simply order four of everything for the entire group. The merits of both were discussed, and whilst some  _ did _ go down the route of multiple servings, there were others who simply chose to order on the lighter side.

Dessert, it appeared, was a highlight for  _ everyone _ at the table.

Especially if it were someone else's.

Qrow very nearly thwapped his dessert fork to sneaky fingers as they leant across the table to steal a strawberry from his plate, and in his haste, he entirely missed the cheeky diversion. As he looked back down again, the berry was gone, and red eyes darted up to catch sight of one Clover Ebi as he popped it into his mouth.

“Hey!” he bit out sharply.

Clover glanced at him in utter innocence, brows raised, as if he weren't hiding the thing in his mouth.

“Tastes better when it's stolen,” he mumbled simply, thoroughly enjoying his juicy morsel.

“I'm gonna remember that, y'know,” Qrow continued, his brow remaining furrowed.

Lips curled in amusement as Clover sliced out a small forkful of his own dessert. “Is that a threat or a promise?” Green eyes locked to his as he raised the tiny sliver, offering it unthinkingly to the huntsman.

Qrow could only bite down on the offered piece, ignoring his retort in momentary favour of the utterly rich flavour that hit his tongue. Whatever it was, it was cool, and creamy and delicately tart with citrus. He'd  _ definitely _ have to steal some of that later.

Brows raised in brief satiation. “Both,” he murmured before swallowing it down.

The operative could only smile softly to himself as he returned to his own plate once more. Pity, he thought, because those were some particularly delicious strawberries.

“Uh oh, better watch out Clover,” Yang's voice intoned softly across from him. Green eyes met hers, and she shook her head in amusement. “When Uncle Qrow promises something, it becomes a personal challenge to see it through to the end.”

“You're doomed now,” Ruby added with a nonchalant shrug.

Clover could only smirk at the two of them. “I'd have to be pretty unlucky to fall victim to that.”

The huntsman leant in to their conversation, gesturing lightly with his fork. “Well hey, that's what I'm here for.”

There was a quiet beat of time, and the operative next to him could only offer him a wry smile, green eyes glancing almost fondly in his direction before turning his attention back to his dessert.

“Oh, we'll see about that...” he breathed.

“Then maybe don't steal anymore of my dessert,” came the softly acidic taunt, earning him a bright laugh for his efforts.

“No promises, but feel free to return the favour.”

It was a simple little thing, almost missed if nobody knew what to listen for.

For the man sitting next to Qrow, it was as loud as a thunderclap that rattled the windows about them all.

In one moment, as it often did with the both of them, luck had firmly slid into their words, tinting their discussion. It was a topic known fondly to the two of them, and they'd long spent many an hour talking of fortune and her ways. Yet in the same vein, there had always been a quiet shift the more they talked.

A subtle turning, as the huntsman began to appreciate the change of his own fate.

Positivity had begun to creep into his words and his thoughts, where once stood only negative connotations of luck and fate; a brightening, where once the sourness of life only resided.

In the space next to him, he'd spoken so simply; a brief mention of his semblance and then it was gone.

No sheen of negativity, nor dark cloud hung above his words. It was even less than a heavy statement. A simple tease.

Clover desperately wished he could show the huntsman from a month ago what his fortune would bring him. The thought pulled at his chest as he took another bite of his dessert, knowing he'd fallen still in his brief thoughts.

He was utterly proud of how far he'd come.

All too soon, it seemed, they had finished their final course, and were left with only the memory of sweet, delectable treats. They lingered over the last of their plates, and fingers swiped up the remains of chocolate and cream.

Qrow, much to his surprise, had found the night more than bearable – downright enjoyable, actually – despite the stuffiness of what he still wore. Fingers still desperately wanted to reach for his tie and loosen the gods-forsaken thing, but he'd most certainly wait until they were outside, and well away from Weiss before he did so.

He'd survived one sharp bout of her anger, and he wasn't about to incite another.

He leant back in his seat, shoulders stretching back lightly and unable to stop the faint wince from collecting on his expression as his back protested his lack of activity. He was going to need one hell of a hot shower once he got back to his room. Green eyes caught the faint movement, but otherwise said nothing as a waiter stepped over to the man. They spoke quietly to one another for a moment; the operative offering the woman a thankful smile as she left.

In the stillness between them, Clover reached a hand out to the huntsman, sliding across the back of his shoulders and settling under his collar at the back of his neck, pressing firmly. Green eyes blinked a little, surprise crossing his features as Qrow couldn't stop the soft release of a groan at the touch, eyelids fluttering closed.

“You're as tight as anything...” he remarked simply, fingertips rubbing deep into muscle.

Qrow blinked back at him, and an expression of pure meekness passed over him.

“Ah, yeah... Had a... bit of a rough flight earlier,” he explained, a little embarrassed. He realised what he'd just said to the man and raised a hand in defence. “Nothing to do with trees again, promise,” he added hastily. “Just... got myself caught up in the edge of that snowstorm.”

Clover felt the soft laugh slip from him. “That's good to know. Don't want you going through  _ that _ again anytime soon.”

The huntsman smiled faintly back at him, before fingertips shifted a little, travelling downwards from the back of his neck, and finding the edge of a particularly sore spot between his shoulder blades. Qrow couldn't help the soft jolt wringing from him as fingers withdrew instantly, the quiet draw of a breath dragging over his tongue. Clover offered him an apologetic smile as the waiter returned, placing their coffee before them.

He curled his fingers about the small cup, raising it towards the huntsman. “Well, lucky you; I know just the thing to help with that,” he told him with a brief wink.

Qrow let his fingers settle about his own cup, feeling the warmth bleed into him. “If you're about to tell me to fall into a hot tub for about an hour, I'm already way ahead of you on that one,” he told him simply.

The soft laugh fell to his ears. “No, though that  _ will _ probably help in the long run,” he took a sip from his cup, enjoying the heat and savouring the sharp taste. “I was going to suggest movement. Finding a chance to stretch your legs a little, since we haven't really done a lot of that this evening.”

Qrow raised his brows to concede the point as he drew from his own cup. Whatever had been ordered for him was smooth, delightfully creamy, and he did have to admit, if this was how Clover took his coffee, he was kind of partial to it. He really  _ was _ making some serious changes all around.

“Forgive me if I'm not in the mood for a quick jog,” came the breath of a murmur, lips quirking in amusement about the rim of his cup.

The warm laughter spilled from the man, and Clover could only shake his head at him. “I really don't think either of us are dressed for the occasion, though I'll keep it in mind for next time.” He reclined easily in his chair, one hand cupping his elbow as he lazily held his coffee. Green eyes glanced over his shoulder to the expanse of the restaurant behind them. “I was thinking something a little more relaxed.”

Qrow didn't quite catch the drift of his words, and he followed that gaze. The soft piano chords came into focus as he found the source of them. Tucked alongside expansive windows, the pianist gently played; fingers brushing along the keys of a rather large piano. Her voice provided a simple accompaniment, and the couples that lingered on the dance floor moved gently with her intimate melody.

They embraced, as warm as could be, relishing in the closeness of their partners as the world fell away around them, whispered smiles shared between them and enjoying soft moments together.

His eyes fell to one couple in particular, and he couldn't help the warm smile that spread through his expression. Foreheads pressed together, eyes closed and all but ignoring the world about them as a golden braid spilled across her shoulder blades, he watched his niece slowly dance with the girl she'd found herself so enamoured with.

The whole world could have fallen down around them and he knew their steps would never falter.

Oh, so that's... what he meant...

Red eyes ducked away from the sight, almost feeling like he was intruding gently on the sight of them, and returned to the man next to him as the ghost of an apologetic smile drifted across his expression.

“I hate to be the one to disappoint you, but... I'm a terrible dancer,” he told him softly. Green eyes could only watch him firmly for a moment, thoughts ticking over before turning back to his coffee.

“Mm, I think that's a lie...” came the blunt whisper of a reply, Clover taking another sip of his coffee. Qrow felt his brow furrow a little as he felt the breath of a laugh slip from him.

“Oh? The guy with a semblance like mine  _ not _ having two left feet?” he countered simply.

Green eyes narrowed faintly in amusement as he watched him carefully. “You're trying to tell me the man who lived nearly his entire life as a spy  _ never _ had to step onto a ballroom floor?” he pressed gently. “Not even from your days at Beacon? I was under the impression Professor Ozpin had a thing for school dances; loved them about as much as he did throwing his students into the air.”

Qrow almost faltered at that one, and he gave his answer by way of taking another short sip from his cup, resisting the urge to sigh into it. Clover's smile broadened faintly, and his brought his own cup to his lips.

Well, it wasn't a no...

“Or could it be that you're just scared of your two left feet?”

Red eyes flicked back to the man's from above his cup, and he felt the first trickle of raised hackles at the words. He knew it was a rather clearly thrown gauntlet, and gods above, he knew himself better than to bite at it. Instead, he simply sighed as he placed his cup down once more.

“What are you, still a cadet? I haven't heard a challenge like that since before I graduated,” he snorted in light defence.

“You'd rather sit still for the rest of the evening?”

Qrow drew his gaze back to the man, already knowing that whatever he'd throw back at him would be immediately countered. Nor would he simply let it drop. The man still had an excuse for everything, it seemed. Yet... he had to admit that he really  _ didn't  _ want to stay seated for the rest of the night, and that getting to his feet for some gentle movement would do him the world of good.

He also knew he'd never live it down if he gave him an outright no once more.

The man was a bigger bully than his nieces, it seemed.

“Alright...” the sigh fell from him. “Well... I guess it all depends.”

The brunet raised a brow, still lingering over his coffee. “On?”

A beat of time passed between them, Qrow reaching for the last of his coffee and finishing it off. As he placed it back upon the saucer, he drew in a languid breath, letting it sit in his chest before releasing it softly. He stood without preamble, red eyes meeting the operative's as he extended a hand out to him.

“Which one of us takes the lead.”

Green eyes flicked down to the offered hand, surprised at the brief turnaround. Given the way he'd chosen to push against his words, he was expecting a bit more of a struggle. Not that he didn't enjoy their banter, but he was almost disappointed he wouldn't get a chance to hear any more of his rather creative excuses.

It was Clover's turn to release the sigh that sat on his tongue, and he placed his cup down once more, fingers slipping gently into the huntsman's as he got to his feet, warm smile on his lips.

“Flip a coin for it?” he asked softly as they began walking.

The quiet laugh met his words. “Only if you don't cheat,” came the tease of a reply. “I know you've got that pin somewhere.”

Clover couldn't keep the smile from his lips as they crossed the floor softly, giving the huntsman a little extra time to remember what moving actually felt like. Perhaps he'd thrown him in the deep end with the sudden proposition, but he knew from vast experience that he'd be worse off if he simply stayed in place.

Qrow, too, knew it intimately, and while he  _ did _ feel he was kind of cornered into it, he found relief in simple movement already.

He was still taking that day off though, and Ironwood could grumble about it all he wanted.

He stopped at the edge of the dance floor, fingers slipping to hold the operative's a little better as they drew in close to one another, his free hand settling past the curve of his waist and sitting at the small of his back. Clover couldn't help the amused sound that fell from him as he was held flush to the other.

“Oh, so that's how it is...” he murmured, brushing his hand up the huntsman's chest to settle at his shoulder.

“I mean, you forced me into it,” the huntsman told him as they began to move gently with the music. “So that  _ kind of _ gives me the right to choose.”

“I asked politely, thank you,” Clover told him, wry smile on his lips.

“You bullied me.”

“Mm, would you have said yes otherwise?” came the gentle press.

The words seemed to bring the huntsman to a halt, and he glanced away with a soft smile. The brunet gave those fingers a gentle squeeze, nuzzling the curve of his cheek to bring their eyes back together once more.

“There,” he breathed, pressing their foreheads together. “I win.”

“Well... guess I'm still a sore loser...”

The soft murmur fell between them, and a heartbeat later, it drew the faint laugh from the huntsman. Warmth ran through him at the familiar exchange, and soon enough Clover had joined him as their shared in their private amusement.

He was glad that such warm, simple words had slipped under their skin as easy as breathing. In-jokes and laughter, just for them. Words that had become as fond to them as the colour of their eyes. In gentle memories that fit into their hands as easily as the other's.

Qrow felt the soft murmur of sound trace from him, and he brushed lips gently against the man's. The restaurant moved gently about them, as breath warmed his skin, and he lightly nuzzled him, basking in the soft closeness that spilled between them.

Lips pressed to his, and it felt every bit as achingly wonderful as the first time. Fingers moved from the curve of his shoulder, slipping along fabric to find the warm skin of his neck and travelling into short strands of dark hair, threading gently into silken locks.

It would have been utterly wonderful if the world around them could fall silent, still, awarding them a lingering moment of peace as they stood together. How he wished...

Dark brows pinched faintly, fingers curling a little closer about the ones in his hand.

How he just  _ wanted... _

It was Clover who drew back finally, not wishing to part from him entirely, and letting his nose brush against the other's in a gentle nuzzle, still taking all he could from their closeness. Scant space slid between them and it felt like something in his chest had loosened with the action.

Green eyes blinked softly, faint realisation stirring in the back of his mind, and he drew fingers gently back from dark hair. He'd forgotten all about it since dinner-

“Reminds me...” he murmured, digging a hand into his pocket. He unlaced his fingers from Qrow's other hand as fingertips brushed against what he sought. The smile found its way to his lips as he withdrew from his quarry, collecting Qrow's right hand in his own.

In that moment, red eyes ducked back up to green, feeling a little lost as to what it was he was doing.

“I know... you've already had a big night here...” Words faltered on Clover's tongue as he couldn't help the huff of a laugh that escaped him. “A  _ hell _ of a big night... but... I was also given an important mission of my own.”

Thumbs brushed against the back of Qrow's fingers in hesitation and he found his stomach turning a perfect somersault from where he stood. Nerves felt almost foreign to him, and he swallowed through a suddenly tight throat. Angry hordes of Grimm he could face any day. Winter's wrath, a close second.

This? Gods, with the way those red eyes were watching him in dire scrutiny and utter fondness, he thought his heart was about to burst.

Qrow, for all his blessed insight, said nothing as the man sorted through his own words.

“When Ruby and I spoke... and she found out about us, she gave me something very valuable to hold onto,” he explained haltingly. “Something... I think is time went back to its owner...”

The huntsman felt something in his chest seize up impossibly as Clover slid the first of those rings back onto fingers, and a black gemstone glittered back up at him in the dim light. Ruby didn't have-

_ Clover  _ had-

“I once heard they're all you have left... of what used to be home...”

The soft words were almost lost to Qrow's ears as the simple silver band slid into place on another finger, and he remembered to draw in the shaky breath at the sight of them. Safe and sound. Back where they belonged.

“And I think that's a bit of a shame...”

Red eyes blinked, so caught up in the slip of fingers about his that he almost missed the words. Clover still had his hand in his, smiling his warmth at him.

“After all... they say home is where the heart is, right?”

Qrow's mouth felt dry, and his mind utterly blank at the soft turn of events. For yet another time in the same evening, he felt himself completely caught out; all expectations turned on their ear as he stared back into green eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realised the incredible amount of trust it must have taken for Ruby to simply hand over his rings like that. There was no other way he could have wound up with them.

His thoughts scratched to an otherwise empty stutter, and he nearly gave in to the automatic reaction of simply brushing rings with the edge of his thumb.

“Third...” the almost mute word spilled from him, unthinking. He caught himself after a moment, as if realising what he'd said, and ducking red eyes away for a heartbeat. His brow pinched as he stammered through the emotion on his expression, blinking maybe a little too quickly.“There was... a third...”

He almost swore green eyes glittered in the light, the same as the dark gemstone that now sat upon his finger once more.

“There was...” he breathed softly, full of affection for the huntsman. “Though I hope you don't mind... changing it up a little...”

If his mind were ticking over properly, and not leaving him standing there with his heart in his throat, he would have caught the words earlier. Would have realised it sooner. His brows had barely begun to pinch faintly, when he felt fingers shift about his own once more. Something tightened in his chest at the feeling and stole his breath away before he'd even moved. As much as he wanted to tear his gaze downwards to their joined hands, he found himself entirely incapable of movement.

Clover, hands still collected about Qrow's, lifted the backs of fingers to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to knuckles.

Before slipping away entirely.

Red eyes could only stare as he tilted his hand back, locked entirely to the sight of his missing third ring. Or rather, his  _ new _ ring.

A thick silver band sat above his usual thin silver one, almost dwarfing it. Ornate lines were carved delicately into its surface, some all the way through the silver, and at its heart, lay a single golden four-leaf clover.

Qrow was stuck. Utterly unmoving, as he could do nothing but stare at the ring, feeling the breath all but rammed from him, lips parted as the sight resonated deep in his chest. He couldn't even work up the ability to react to it as red eyes kept tracing over the lines of it, following each little curve and dull shine and how it sat so perfectly alongside his others.

Safe and sound. Like it always belonged there.

His mind had skittered to a complete stop; a thunderous opposite to his heartbeat, which now thudded like a drum in his ears. He swallowed through a tight throat, somehow registering in the back of his mind how utterly still he'd fallen, and snapped his gaze back up to Clover's.

The man seemed to have wagered on his reaction somewhat, and he could only smile warmly at the shellshock surrounding the huntsman, though it couldn't stop his own hesitation as he snatched at the words on the back of his tongue.

“I... know it's not much...” he began softly, letting his gaze settle on rings, new and old. Lips parted, and he almost lost his nerve entirely, words all but drying up on him. “But... I know what that one means to you,” green eyes skirted a thin silver band, “so... now... you get to keep a little bit of... all of us with you.”

Silence settled between them, Clover having said everything that he needed, and he let out the softly shaky breath he hadn't realised had stilled in his chest, ducking his eyes away lightly.

Qrow felt the impact of the gentle words hit him with all the force of a tidal wave and he couldn't stop the sudden need to  _ breathe _ again; the sound gasping across his tongue as his chest ached with tightness. It all fell into place, slipping starkly into view as he slowly lowered his hand, red eyes unmoving from the man before him as fingers curled to brush a thumb across silver.

“... I love it...”

The soft breath of words rolled out as a single sigh, and Clover barely had enough time to blink back up at him, unsure if he heard-

Hands pressed tightly to both his cheeks, pulling him in for a fierce kiss the likes of which already had him reeling, stealing the breath from his mouth as he gasped into it. His own hands clutched at air for a moment, entirely caught off-guard before they settled against the huntsman's sides, brushing about his waist and holding him firm.

Qrow all but trembled against him, all thought thrown to the wayside as he felt that roil of emotion in his stomach once more. Nothing about tonight had been expected at  _ all _ , and he had no idea how his body was able to keep processing anything. He was used to small steps. Little paces. The only grand leaps of faith he took were on the battlefield, and even then he went into it with complete confidence in his abilities and those of his companions.

This was... The night had utterly floored him, and he had no idea how he was still  _ standing _ . And now the brunet, who, time after time, kept surprising him and throwing him for an utter loop had done  _ that _ . Gods, he'd all but-

His chest felt tight enough to burst and he broke from the sudden kiss, breathing hard against his lips.

“ _ You _ -” he nearly laughed the word. “I... I mean-” Words failed him entirely, and he stole another kiss from smiling lips, heat burning at his eyes.

Qrow pulled back once more, tear-rimmed eyes ducking between green as thumbs stroked softly, unable to keep the shaky smile of complete and utter adoration from his face.

“... I love  _ you _ ...”

Those green eyes widened as the words struck true, and the man fell still at them. Had he just-

He...

He said-

_ He did _ .

Fingers slipped away from the huntsman's back, reaching up to cover one of those trembling hands still pressed to the curve of his cheek. It took Clover a handful of seconds to realise he had to breathe again, and he got a firm taste of his own medicine as he inhaled once more.

“Qrow...”

The huff of a laugh fell from him, spilling into their shared space, and he blinked against his own well of heat burning behind his eyes, smile overtaking him. The soft laugh kept rolling from him, and he could think of no better way to silence it than pressing his lips to the huntsman's.

Both of them couldn't help the smiles that broke between them and they soon parted once more, foreheads pressed together and laughing softly. Hands slipped from the brunet's cheeks, one lacing together with his so tight it almost hurt, and the other, rings glinting in the dim light, curving atop his shoulder.

He never wanted to stop looking at either of them for the rest of the night.

“Say it again...”

The whisper lingered between them, full with affection, and Qrow felt his heart skitter at the request.

“You heard me the first time...” he teased softly, unable to keep the smile from his entire expression.

“And I'll believe you on the fifth,” Clover replied without hesitation, nuzzling him softly as their dance returned to them once more.

Qrow returned the gesture easily, eyes closing as he savoured it softly, moving gently with the man. The feeling of warmth against his skin. The words that fell to his ears so gently. The hands that squeezed his, just right. The feeling in his chest that hadn't gone away since the start of the night.

Perhaps... in the end... everything would be alright.

He prayed to whatever gods were left that it would be, because he didn't want to lose this for the world. His fingers had clutched enough falling sand in his lifetime, and now, as fate would have it, he'd found solid purchase for the first time in years. Enough to seize between his hands. Enough to stand upon.

Enough to get his breath back.

It was... enough.

And it hurt and  _ hurt  _ to think he'd been so long without. It burrowed into his chest, surrounding the shards that lay about his heart and taking to them with the wild swings of a hammer. One by one, piece by brittle piece, they'd come apart so expertly in the hands of a man that fortune had set him out to find.

The thought almost made him laugh.

He'd had no intention of actively seeking this kind of thing – comfort, happiness, a  _ relationship _ – and lest of all places, in Atlas. He'd merely set one foot in front of the other, one pace behind his family and his young charges, assuming they would be all he ever really cared for until the end of his days.

Until his luck got them all arrested so many weeks ago.

_ That _ thought brought the soft laugh from him, and he opened red eyes to smile warmly at the brunet.

“In that case...” he breathed, barely above a sigh, lips ghosting across Clover's. “I love you...”

The broad smile settled across his entire expression, and he nuzzled against him gently, drinking in the sound of that voice; the happiest he'd ever heard it. Letting it wash over him, in all it's intonations and softness and gentle declaration.

And he decided he never wanted to hear anything else so long as he lived.

Lips brushed against his, achingly soft and utterly warm. It was a movement unhurried, and they fell entirely still where they stood, letting the world slip away from them, allowing each other to simply indulge in the feeling of the other. In the closeness and warmth of the other.

The simple need between them gave them all the reason they could ask for.

Red eyes slivered open as warm breath slipped between them once more, watching the man and feeling his chest entirely too tight from such a simple action. It was as if Clover was utterly caught in the memory of lips that still lingered upon his own. Foreheads still pressed together, the operative drew in a breath, letting fingers curl gently where they sat against the huntsman's waist and feeling the delicate touch of silken fabric.

The silent exhale left the brunet as he stood with him, warmth bleeding between the two of them.

Gods above and below, but his heart  _ ached  _ yet there was nothing he could do to stop it...

“... you have no idea how selfish I want to be right now...”

Despite how close they were, Qrow almost missed the faint snatch of words, and it took him a handful of time to draw his own soft breath at them. Rather than what he heard, it was the tone behind them that drew that tightness to his chest once more.

He swallowed lightly as he watched closed eyes carefully, guarded, wanting any sort of indication as to what it was he just heard.

Why it suddenly sounded so...

Fingers pressed gently into the curve of the man's shoulder, holding him just a little firmer, just a little closer, wanting to ignore the gnawing sensation that arose in the back of his mind.

“... depends what you mean...”

Green eyes slivered open, not meeting his own gaze, but there was something swimming deep within them that brought his heartbeat to his ears. An indiscernible ache in words unspoken.

Clover's fingers gave a gentle squeeze about his own, the ghost of a smile almost splintering in Qrow's chest.

“... a question both of us already know the answer to...”

The breath slipped between them, and Qrow felt it leave him. He nearly forgot how to draw it back in, and he held it firmly and not wanting to let it out, feeling something in his stomach tighten.

The question that had already been asked.

The question that had already left them clutching tight, fingers aching, broken against the other.

The question without answer.

_ I don't want to lose you _ .

He let his breath out slowly, blinking back at the man as heat gathered at the back of his throat. He felt it constrict, almost gently at first, and then squeezing harder and harder as he swallowed tightly.

“Clover...”

The brunet released his own breath, steady and low, drawing green eyes back up to the huntsman. There was a deep ache behind them; he could see it as clearly as the faint ghost of a smile he wore upon his lips. But more than that, he saw certainty. He saw a clarity that brought him back from the tightness that threatened to choke him.

How could he speak those words and still look at him with such devastating fondness?

That faint smile grew as Clover nuzzled him gently, eyes closing briefly.

When he drew back softly, meeting that red gaze fully, there was no sign whatsoever of the splinter that sheared into his chest. No sign of the man that had clutched at him so tightly, broken and weeping for his own failings on the huntsman's shoulder.

He looked at Qrow with complete warmth and adoration, seeing nothing else before him.

“I'm not one for promises...” he breathed softly.

Green eyes glanced down briefly, smiling only for the man before him as he picked through his words.

“Let's just say...” He brought his gaze back to Qrow's, hand slipping away from his waist to rest gently at the curve of his cheek, warmth bleeding from where he touched. “If we come back here... I'd like a second dance...”

Qrow almost felt his resolve shatter about his feet at the achingly soft words, and it softly shuddered from him in a quiet breath. Not a promise; it wasn't a promise. He couldn't-

He almost let the feeling of those words overtake him entirely, and he swallowed through a tight throat, red eyes ducking between green. It  _ wasn't  _ a promise.

He couldn't promise him anything, and still-

His breath stilled in his chest, and heat burned dangerously behind his eyes. He felt his heartbeat echo in his ears and fingers withdrew from the curve of the man's shoulder, curling about the one that pressed warm to his skin.

Despite the way he wanted to give in, the way the tremor sat buried, just below the surface of his skin, itching for release, waiting to drown him entirely, he knew he wouldn't let himself.

Not when the brunet was showing him just how deep his conviction ran.

The smile broke across his lips, warm and sure as he could make it, and he remembered how to breathe again.

“Deal...” the word spilled between them, the only sound he trusted himself to make in the moment.

Clover let the soft breath of a laugh slip from him, and he pressed his lips to Qrow's, drinking in his warmth and stealing the very sadness from him.

How had the huntsman been so lucky to find someone so capable of cleaving his heart in two, and rejoining both halves together so expertly in his hands? Of taking everything he'd ever known as truth and swinging the hammer at the fragile glass surrounding it?

What had he done to deserve-

The thought caught in his throat, and he moved fingers from the man's, curling into short brunet hair, holding him close. He'd done nothing to deserve it, his mind whispered. And yet he didn't  _ deserve _ anything in life; he knew better than anyone that if you wanted happiness, you had to claim it for yourself.

The thought of grasping  _ any  _ fleeting happiness, rancid, to the person he once was.

Something overwhelmingly unattainable.

Yet there he stood, wrapped within the arms of the happiness he'd once thought dead to him. Wrought by someone that had slivered his way under his skin, by way of a bright smile, gentle words, and a soft touch to his shoulder.

Someone that had found their way about his walls, chipping, chipping, at the broken shards that surrounded his heart, until something dislodged, falling to the ground with a resounding clatter.

Someone who was one of the few people he never wanted to push away.

Someone for whom he would become the surest of anchors in his storm.

Where once there had only been room for family within his tightly sealed armour.

There now stood another.

And he would love him with every fibre of his being and every ounce of life in his body.

He knew there could be no promises between them; not like that. But a little something unspoken for the future... that was certainly more their style.

Life itself moved about them, gently giving them space, and still keeping them so close to the world about them. Two pairs of eyes that had settled upon them now drew back, warm smiles upon both their lips as Blake continued to dance slowly with her partner.

“Weiss was right...” she told the blonde softly, the hems of their dresses swaying gently with the music as they continued to dance.

Yang leant closer, letting lips press gently to a forehead, the soft questioning sound slipping from her.

There was a faint breath of a laugh at the movement, and Blake couldn't help the need to close her eyes at it, letting warmth slip through her. Always when she wanted to make a point...

“He deserves it...” came the soft breath. Violet eyes met hers as Yang drew back lightly, feeling the gentle weight beneath those words. “After everything he's been through... he deserves this chance...”

The blonde held her gaze for a moment before turning back to her uncle, warmth tinting her eyes as the smile began to brush across her lips.

“Yeah...” she agreed, watching the two of them laugh softly against one another. A private joke, just between the two of them. Her brows pinched faintly as her smile grew. “He really does...”

There was no denying the soft sentiment that fell from her, yet the longer she watched them, the more her heart simply ached. Moving forward was always the hardest, but her uncle was one of the toughest people she knew.

She begged whatever gods were left that this chance would be enough for him.


	19. Second Helpings And Secluded Wanderings

To say the night had been more than successful for all parties concerned would have been an understatement.

Ruby felt her heart full to bursting as she stood outside the entrance, warmth still sitting at her back and stomach strolling through some of the most incredible memories she'd have for  _ quite  _ some time. If this was the norm amongst the Atlas elite, she was  _ really _ going to have to ask Weiss to help them out in future.

The contented sigh fell from her lips, one hand resting warmly against her cheek as thoughts of succulent garlic bread, creamy pasta and decadent dessert floated through her mind once more. She really, really, _really_ needed to bring everyone back here again. Or maybe ask Weiss and Clover if they knew of any places that were just as good. Or even _better_ than this! Oh, but she didn't think she could handle it if there were any better places out there.

The thought brought her other hand to her cheek as she failed to contain the happy little sound that danced from her.

There was a gentle laugh from next to her, bringing her slowly back down to the ground in the same way as the light snow continued to fall about them.

“You're certainly happy,” Weiss told her with a soft smile.

Ruby gave another contented sigh, losing herself to memories all over again. “I felt like a princess in there... Everything was just so...  _ wonderful _ ,” she explained simply. Weiss almost gave a soft snort at that.

“You're talking about the food, right?”

The silver-eyed girl tilted a little to the side, still smiling to herself. “You know me so well... It was the food.” She dropped her hands, wrapping her arms about herself as they stood waiting for the others. “But... I think everything else was pretty wonderful too...”

She let her gaze turn back to the others, still milling about in the warmth of the restaurant as jackets were collected and thanks were poured out to the staff. She watched her sister, fingers laced so delicately with Blake's as she brushed a stray dark lock back into place. The girl responded with a soft laugh, brushing the backs of fingers down a golden braid, mouthing unheard words to her, and wringing the bright laugh from the blonde.

Silver eyes glanced past them, through the rest of their team, falling to the eldest of their gathering. Clover was shrugging into his jacket, fingers ghosting about cuffs and chatting animatedly with the huntsman. Qrow himself had his own jacket hooked over a shoulder, smiling a lifetime of warmth to him. He looked tired, but then again, he had every right to be; it had been one hell of a night for them all, but particularly him.

More than that, he looked... happy.

Content.

Something that had eluded him for what seemed like her entire life.

A soft laugh broke across Clover's expression as he helped the huntsman into his jacket, stirring the warm smile from the man in question, and fingers brushed gently to a shoulder, eyes lost to one another for a moment.

“Mm, you've got that right. And... it really does suit him...”

Weiss' gentle voice broke into her thoughts, and Ruby turned to raise a questioning brow at her, not quite following her line of thought.

“Clover?” she ventured softly. There was a moment of silence, Weiss shaking her head lightly, and faint smile of amusement crossing her lips.

“Smiling.”

Ruby felt something in her chest tighten at the simple word, and she turned back to watch her uncle. He really had gone through so much in these last few... hell,  _ years _ , really. But arriving in Atlas had been the full-stop to that particular paragraph in his life.

He'd been thumbing through the pages of his life so absently, that he'd lost count of where he left off. He'd lost sight of where it was he wanted to continue reading from; just letting life write the story for him as he dragged his heels behind the words.

She'd seen just how lost he'd become, and in her own naivety and inexperience, had no real marker for where to lead him. How to help him. She could only do what she had always done, which was offer him that ever-extended hand, and when that failed to work, shake his tree a little by putting her foot down harshly.

If old methods failed, then new ones were certainly worth trying.

His smile had always been there, but its edges always tinted with sadness or bitter irony. His eyes hiding something so dark that it threatened to overshadow everything about him. His laughter, often ringing with a hollow peal, and words laced with venomous sarcasm and biting retort. It was his armour, and he wore it well.

It hadn't been until that night, upon their escape to Atlas, that she saw the first of those changes.

A decision, made from exhaustion, made from having had enough, made from utter disappointment in himself, and she'd wrapped her arms around him so tight it hurt.

The day he simply put his flask down for good.

The smile he'd given her then was faint, tired, but the affection behind it had been soft and warm, just for her. It was the smile he always reserved for his family, and no one else. It was the smile of a man who refused to allow himself to be truly seen by anyone else  _ aside  _ from family.

The faint smile of her own settled upon her, watching him as he laughed with the man whose presence he'd learned to enjoy.

Bonding with those around her was easy, natural even, and seeing her uncle go through the same motions of opening up and learning to trust the person at his side was heartwarming. Your partners on the field were more than just the fighters by your side. They soon became the closest friends you could ever have hoped for. They soon became family.

And for every single one of them, they would do whatever they could to make sure their family was safe and happy.

Silver eyes blinked a little at the soft realisation, echoing in the forefront of her mind like the clear peal of a bell, and she drew a quiet breath as she darted her gaze to the man alongside her uncle. Eyes widened faintly as he mind settled on the clarity that danced within her thoughts.

Family...

“But you're right...”

Weiss blessedly brought her back to the present, and she blinked over at her, still feeling her breath caught in her chest.

“They really do suit each other...” the silver-haired girl finished, turning her warm smile to her teammate. Blue eyes stared back at her, caught by the softly aching emotion that sat upon Ruby's expression. She reached up without thinking, placing a hand about her arm in sudden and deep concern.

“What's wrong?” she asked softly.

Ruby opened her mouth to reply, but found the words turning to ash upon her tongue. She glanced silver eyes away for a moment, and fingers squeezed softly. Oh gods, it had been there all along... And she never even realised it, until-

“He's...”

The breath shuddered from her as she pointed lightly to the brunet, and Weiss' concern was now spiking as she followed her. Was it something to do with Clover? She gave a quick glance to the rest of the group around them, almost grateful they hadn't been spotted yet.

“Ruby, you need to talk to me,” she pressed softly, quickly.

Silver eyes darted back to hers, and the almost relieved huff fell from her, smile breaking gently across her expression once more.

“He's... he's family...” she breathed.

The words struck the girl like an arrow to the forehead, and Weiss stood up a little straighter at that. It took her a handful of time to catch up to the girl's thoughts and process it a little. She was caught for a moment before the soft snuffle of laughter spilled from her, and she couldn't stop the faint well of giggles that softly overtook her. Ruby had every right to look as utterly indignant as she did at the response, and her expression fell sharply with a harsh exhale from her nose, all other thoughts shunted to the side.

“Hey..!” she whined at the girl.

Weiss brought herself under control, holding up a hand as her giggles tapered off. Blue eyes met hers and she shook her head lightly, full of affection for her team mate.

“Oh Ruby...” she almost sighed. “You don't give a speech like  _ that _ in there, and  _ then  _ act all surprised when you realise what he means to you.”

Arms folded across a chest as the almost embarrassed murmur slipped from her. “Wish I hadn't said anything now...” she mumbled, effectively pouting, silver eyes watching the snow on the ground. Fingers drifted up from her arm, landing gently on her hair.

“Don't worry...” she told her simply. “We all like the idea, too.”

Ruby stared back at her, feeling gentle relief uncoil in the pit of her stomach. She felt a little silly for realising it so late; especially if Weiss had just said  _ that _ . Was she really the last to see these kinds of things?

The sigh fell from her again and she stared back up at the girl. “You mean it?”

“Well of course,” came the affectionately exasperated response as she drew her hand away. There really was no way to articulate what she meant unless she started from the beginning, and Weiss gave a faint sigh. “Look... Qrow's been an absolute blessing to all of us since we left Beacon, and  _ definitely _ since we arrived in Solitas. Everyone can see how much he means to you and Yang, and everyone knows how much he cares about us. Even if he...  _ does  _ have a funny way of showing it sometimes.”

She trailed off a little, staring back at the two huntsmen, blue eyes full of adoration for the both of them.

“But in the end, he truly cares for all of us the same way he cares for you two... So it really does make him family. To  _ all _ of us...” Weiss drew her arms around herself, warmth scurrying through her chest, despite the cold of the air about them. Discussions on the meaning of the word family were not at  _ all  _ what she expected to go through tonight, yet she certainly wasn't about to stop. Ruby deserved to know where they all stood with the huntsman. “And since we arrived in Atlas... you really can see that he's happier... that something's changed for the better...”

Ruby couldn't help but stare achingly at the girl, feeling her heart's story being laid bare for her with every word.

“He's found something in Clover that no one else has ever given him, I think... and it's reason enough for him to want to see this through to the end,” she paused softly, letting the words settle over her as she drew her gaze downwards. “It's given him a reason to... to want to keep going... to fight for something  _ stronger  _ than just family...” Her words tapered off again, and she mulled over the words on her tongue. “Qrow has... never really shared himself nor his trust with someone... in the way he has with Clover. That much anyone can tell. I mean, I think a blind man all the way in Menagerie could see how he looks at him,” she added with a soft huff.

Those blue eyes met Ruby's, and the cold air of the night sat still in her throat.

“So... yes... Qrow's family to us, and he has been for so long now,” she told her firmly. “And his choice is reason enough for all of us to extend the same love and affection to Clover.  _ More  _ than enough,” she added with a soft sound of amusement. “But...”

Weiss had trailed off, the wry smile finding her lips as Ruby stared back at her.

“But..?” the silver-eyed girl pressed gently.

“Mm... you and Yang get to tell him first,” she finished, warmth blossoming through her expression. “Just... make sure we get to see it, because he's  _ definitely  _ going to go the same colour as your outfit.”

Ruby couldn't help the soft laughter that fell from her, with Weiss easily joining in. Fingers threaded into hers and she was pulled into a warm embrace. No, she may not have had the ability to see it all before her, not immediately, but she had a family that did, and they all looked out for their own.

And she did have to admit... the word had a nice ring to it...

Warmth spread through her as she squeezed gently. “Thanks...” she breathed softly against hair. “I guess I just... got caught up in the moment again.”

“That's what we're all here for...” Weiss murmured affectionately, drawing back to shake her head at the girl. “But don't ever worry me like that again. I thought something was seriously wrong for a moment!”

“Well it was!” Ruby huffed.

“Not like that, it wasn't!” came the laughing reply.

“I think the only worrying we have to do is how much of a stomach ache we're all gonna have.”

Both girls startled lightly, turning to spy the rest of their teams filing out finally, and their gaze settled on a very smug looking blonde. Apparently it took a blissful amount of time for everyone to armour themselves against the cold of the night air, which Ruby was more than thankful for.

She didn't think she could handle it if either her uncle or Clover walked in on  _ that _ particular conversation.

“Says you; I can still go another round,” she told her sister firmly, arms folding across her chest in a pout.

Yang mirrored the action, staring smugly down at her. “Please, you couldn't eat another thing if you tried,” the easy taunt rolled from her lips. Ruby puffed up at the challenge, deeply offended.

“Nora! Are you still hungry!” she called sharply. The girl in question slid in next to Ruby, arms firmly folded across her chest.

“Well  _ duh! _ I could go a whole 'nother round in that place!”

“There, y'see!”

At the back of their little pack, still lingering near the entrance, Jaune was the first one to sigh at their antics as the bickering continued. He'd known them all long enough to realise that this kind of challenge was likely to get someone killed. Or knocked out of commission for at least another day or so.

A hand fell to his shoulder, and he stared wearily up at Qrow. The huntsman could only give him a vague one-shouldered shrug, shaking his head at him.

“Don't even  _ try _ and stop them,” he told him gently. “Just... mark them all inactive on the boards until they crawl out of their food coma.”

The blond perked at that, and it seemed to spark a little bit of hope into him. “Oh hey! That's a good idea actually,” he replied, already reaching for his scroll and tapping open their collective profiles. He smiled merrily to himself as the girls continued to snap at one another over food, and with a satisfied sound, ticked each one of them off.

“And done.” Fingers hesitated in closing the program down suddenly, spying the huntsman's own name in the list, and brows furrowed lightly as he stared up at him in concern. “Wait, you're... inactive too?”

Qrow blinked back at him, sliding his hand away to rub at his neck lightly. He supposed he would be asked about it eventually anyway. “Ah... just for the next day or so. That flight back really took it out of me,” he explained simply, almost apologetic smile on his lips.

“Oh... you're not... hurt, are you?” Blue eyes were already darting over him. He was sure he didn't see him favouring anything during the night, but the huntsman  _ was _ pretty stoic about things at the best of times. Red eyes met his worried gaze and he could only smile down at him.

“Relax, just a bit of muscle fatigue. Once I spend the day in a hot bath, I think I'll be just fine,” the soft laugh fell from him. “Not as young as I once was, you know.”

“Old enough to know better,” Clover told him as he stepped outside, nudging a shoulder gently.

“Older than  _ you _ ,” came the soft retort. The operative smiled wryly at him.

“I didn't know we were counting in months now.”

Qrow could only shake his head at him, turning his attention back to the teams. From what he could tell, the vicious bickering had subsided into a heated debate about where they were now going to spend the rest of the evening – a small burger place a few blocks away or the pizzeria they passed on the way. Or perhaps they'd simply go back to that ice cream shop near the Academy and head for a second round of dessert.

He bit back the sigh on his tongue, knowing he was firmly in the fourth option, which was heading home and just sleeping for a week.

Clover only hummed to himself as he tapped lightly on his scroll, fingers swiping a few more times before he tucked it away for good. “Well, I think I'm more than full for now,” he commented idly, smiling back at the huntsman.

“Me too,” Jaune added.

“It was all so good, but... I don't even want to think about food...” Oscar almost whined, holding his stomach lightly. Qrow could only smile fondly at him, lacing an arm about his shoulders.

“Well, if you time it just right, you'll be able to slip away from them without anyone noticing for... oh, say... a couple of minutes? Enough for a running start,” he told him with a wink.

“Besides,” Clover added. “What you do from here is really up to you; it's your night after all.” He couldn't stop the smirk that covered his expression as he leaned in a little closer. “Though I probably wouldn't tell them... but that noodle shop  _ does _ deliver to the Academy. And since mid-week trials are finished for the term... noise regulations are relaxed a little, so if any cadets wanted to have, say... a private party in the dorms, it's handwaved somewhat.”

Hazel eyes blinked back at him in quiet realisation, and Oscar glanced over to Jaune, wearing the same expression.

“Are you... encouraging us to bend the rules?” the blond asked, a little stunned.

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

Qrow quirked a brow at the man, though it didn't stop the wry smile from crossing his lips. “You're such a rebel against authority,” he murmured, earning him a breathy laugh.

“Don't go telling Winter,” came the cheeky wink.

Hands were held up in the air. “Hey now, that honour is all yours,” the huntsman told him firmly.

Green eyes narrowed faintly. “And here I thought partners on the field had each other's backs.” Yang's attention had firmly wavered from food, and she'd long since settled on watching her uncle and Clover as they danced through their soft banter, and she was trying desperately not to snort in laughter at the two of them. The huntsman was smirking firmly at the operative, oblivious to his niece's spying as he gave him a vague shrug, lips parted for a reply.

“Oh, Clover!” Weiss' voice piped up excitedly, snatching everyone's attentions away, and the girl waved him over from where she stood alongside the rest of the debating committee. “I need to speak with you for a moment.” The brunet gave a parting glance to the man at his side before smiling to himself and slipping over to the girl; the two already animatedly chatting to him as he arrived, with Jaune and Oscar trailing along.

Neither of them knew if noodles had been brought up in their debate and it seemed a good a time as any to throw their hat in to the ring. Or at the very least, distract them all to make a timely escape.

Said debate was  _ immediately  _ thrown to the wayside at the mere mention of a small noodle shop on the western edge of the city and Qrow watched eyes light up in a singular, unspoken agreement.

With a final roll of her eyes, and an amused smile on her lips, Yang gave Blake a gentle nudge to the shoulder, drawing the girl gently away from the delighted noises of their group.

“Y'know, it's kinda sweet,” she said to the girl at her side. “Partners on the field and partners  _ off _ the field, too.” A soft laugh fell from Blake, and red eyes rolled at his niece's words, smirking back at her and her terrible pun. Yang met those eyes and grinned back at him as she raised her hand discreetly to her chest. In a subtle movement, she wiggled her fingers lightly, firmly catching his gaze.

He blinked back at the little motion, somewhat lost before it smacked him between the eyes like a Beowolf's fist. Red eyes widened faintly, and he ducked his gaze away, feeling heat stir along his collar as he slid his right hand tactfully into a pocket. Oh he knew  _ exactly _ what she was inferring.

Qrow reached up to rub his neck lightly, faint smile catching at his lips as the pair made their way over to him, safe from listening ears. “You, ah... you saw that, huh...” It was a quiet statement, and he glanced at the two of them. Stars above, but the words came out sounding more like a teenager with a crush, and he couldn't keep the faint butterflies in his stomach from rising.

“Uncle Qrow, I'm surprised the  _ manager _ of the place didn't give you guys a free dessert for a  _ year  _ after that performance,” Yang commented softly, elbowing him in the ribs lightly. Blake glanced lightly over to the rest of their group, glad they were somewhat secluded at the back.

At the quiet comment, Qrow nearly felt all the colour drain from his face, and red eyes widened at the staggering realisation. Did she- Wait, did she think-

“It wasn't at  _ all _ like that,” Qrow continued, swallowing lightly. “Look, he was giving me back my rings and- Anyway, it was just a gift.”

“He  _ did _ just give you a very shiny new ring in a  _ very  _ romantic setting,” the dark-haired girl murmured pointedly, staying far away from any mention that he was now  _ hiding  _ said gift firmly in his pocket. He kept it sharply away from prying eyes, probably not at  _ all  _ out of embarrassment, but more due to the fact he wanted his hearing to stay intact; they all  _ knew _ what kind of reaction it would draw from certain members of their group.

He had no way of staving off the flush of heat that drew under his collar, and he was fighting not to react too viscerally to the statement, lest he grab the attention of everyone else near them.

“That's not- It wasn't-”

The huntsman fumbled over his own words as his mind furiously tried to catch up with the rest of him. It really...  _ did _ look like that to the outside world, huh... And more to the point, rationalising it was... probably even harder to explain.

Least of all to his family.

The static rushed within his ears and he glanced with widened eyes over his shoulder, catching sight of the man in question; he stood casually with his own hands in his pockets, chatting to the others. Red eyes blinked a little, feeling something in his chest tighten like a vice and skitter about like a rabbit on the loose all at once.

His breath wanted to hitch in his chest, and he forced down the reaction, ducking his gaze away to the ground. It wasn't a word he wanted to think about at  _ all _ .

Gods above and below, it wasn't even something he'd  _ considered _ when it all happened. It was just-

Clover just gave him his rings back, nothing more.

He just... happened to give him something else to wear alongside them. Something that didn't look or feel at all like what these two were implying. The sigh slipped from him, all nerves and heavy thoughts suddenly stirring in his stomach with the action, and he reached up to brush fingers through his hair, needing something to do.

He really didn't  _ ever  _ want to think about a topic as big or as heavy as that, but...

It really...  _ did _ look like that, he supposed...

Even if it wasn't, his mind immediately snapped. It was just a gift. It wasn't at  _ all _ what they thought.

“Come on then, let us see!” Blake pressed softly, bringing him back from his internalised dread.

Qrow glanced up at the two of them for a moment, feeling almost a little silly for keeping it somewhat of a secret when it was just a gift. A little something to remember the night by, and celebrate the fact he was one month sober. Nothing else. And it wasn't as if he never went anywhere without his rings; it was just another part of his attire. He withdrew his hand from his pocket, making a show of reaching for his tie to loosen it lightly, and his rings glinted back at them in the light. Blake drew in a soft breath, unable to stop herself from placing hands to her mouth.

Yang stilled at the sight of it, violet eyes widening as she saw how perfectly it sat alongside his others. Gleaming and proud and demanding attention, yet also perfectly complimenting the other silver band. She knew full well what that one meant to him. She knew the story of that little ring better than most.

And to now have a second sitting alongside it...

This was...

This ring was no small token, that much she could tell. It was something utterly genuine, and very much like Clover. She may not have known much about the guy, but she knew enough to see the response that such a gift drew from the huntsman.

She knew that it had been chosen with the utmost of care and consideration. Exactly how he seemed to treat her uncle.

A stray thought suddenly brushed the back of her mind, and she almost narrowed violet eyes at it. Did Clover... know... what that little silver band meant to him? Is  _ that  _ why his new one sat where it did? She'd watched the operative and saw how deliberately he placed it upon his finger, but... perhaps she was reading too far into it. It  _ was _ placed exactly where his third ring once sat, so there was a good chance he simply decided to go with that...

But... she didn't believe in those kind of coincidences.

Though she  _ was  _ going to need to ask her sister a few questions in regards to  _ how _ Clover got the rest of Qrow's rings, too.

“It's gorgeous...” Blake breathed at her side, letting her hands fall away softly. Qrow let the words touch him gently, and he glanced down at it, faint smile warming his expression as he brushed his thumb to a glinting surface.

“It sure is something, alright...” he murmured, eyes lost to its surface for a moment. He gathered himself after a beat, returning his hand to his pocket. “But don't get too ahead of yourselves. There's not going to be a matching one on the other side for quite a while,” he reminded them gently.

Yang  _ highly  _ had her doubts about that, and she buried  _ that _ thought firmly into the back of her mind.

His free hand reached over, landing on her shoulder as he gazed down at her. “Look, it's... been a big night. For all of us. Let's just enjoy it for what it is, alright?” he told her gently, smile tinting his expression. She stared back at him for a moment, shaking the last of her thoughts free before she returned the soft smile.

“Well yeah, it's not every night we get to rub shoulders with the Atlas elite and celebrate becoming fully fledged huntsmen and huntresses,” she told him simply.

His smile hitched. “You got that right. So go enjoy it,” he told them, glancing across the rest of their teams. “All of you. Go eat too much and laugh too much, because you've all earned it.”

“Oh, I think we've got the 'eating too much' part sorted out already,” Blake commented, smiling at the rest of their group. There was a general level of finality in their discussions, and a show of hands, just for good measure, wringing a soft chorus of laughter from some of them. Ruby glanced up to see the three of them watching, and she darted a hand in the air, waving brightly at them.

“Yang! Blake! We're gonna go to that noodle place!” she called out, the breathy laugh falling from the huntsman.

“Looks like the rest of your night just got decided,” he commented softly. He gave his niece a brief wink. “Ask for Clover's usual; I promise you won't be disappointed.”

Yang smirked back at him. “I'll take your word for it. But... you don't want to tag along?”

Qrow couldn't stop the quiet release of breath he'd been holding in his chest, still feeling some of that tightness swimming in its wake. Mostly, though, the weariness sat deep through him. It  _ had _ been a long night – an enjoyable one, for certain – but one that he was ready to simply allow to wind to a close.

He reached up, fingers pressing lightly to his neck and running a little towards his shoulder, still feeling the sore pull of muscle and tendon. He was still incredibly sore, and he wanted little else than to fall into a hot bath for a while, and  _ not _ stand outside in the freezing Atlas night air.

Red eyes returned to the rest of their group, at the gathering of warmth and laughter and excitement that rang from each and every one of them. That stirring ache in his chest wormed its way about his heart as he caught green eyes staring back at him, and neither could stop the faint smile that broke upon them, Clover turning away as the soft spill of laughter fell from him.

“I think... I'm going to play up the old man card a bit,” he breathed, turning back to the girls. “Nothing more I really want right now than a long, hot soak and about a ten hour nap,” he added with a huff of a laugh.

Without a breath of hesitation, Yang stepped forward, wrapping her arms about him in a firm embrace. He returned the gesture easily, cheek brushing blonde strands as he felt her sigh against him.

“Don't get up to too much trouble,” she told him against his chest. She felt the laugh roll from him, and he squeezed lightly.

“That's what you guys are for,” came the easy reply. Yang withdrew from him, but not before leaning up to place a kiss to his cheek and a playful ruffle of metallic fingers in dark hair.

“Well duh, no kidding.” She placed her hands on her hips, levelling her smirk at him. Blake could only laugh at the blonde as she also leaned in, giving the huntsman a firm hug.

“Take care of yourself,” she told him, placing a kiss to his other cheek, drawing back to lace hands about the crook of Yang's elbow. “And don't stay up too late; you both look way too tired.”

Qrow ran fingers through his hair, the soft laugh falling from him. “Oh I feel it. Now go on, get out of here.” He jabbed a thumb across his shoulder and the two girls could only smile warmly at him as they headed for the others. The group began to fire up again with all manner of noise, and when it soon became clear that they were splitting up for the evening, they began to break away from the pack, darting to the huntsman to embrace him in a parting hug.

Weiss graciously said nothing to him as she noted his now loosened tie, though she did smile wryly at him. As cufflinks were removed and held out to her, she gently placed her hand atop his, keeping his fingers closed about them.

“Keep them,” she told him warmly. “They suit you.”

He laughed softly at her as he drew his hand back, safely tucking them into a pocket and embracing the girl fondly before she stepped away once more. Qrow glanced up in time to catch the sight of startled green eyes staring down at a flurry of Ruby as the girl launched into his arms. The jolt dislodged some of the snow that had settled onto shoulders and hair as she squeezed the very breath out of him. Clover could only laugh warmly at her, returning the gesture and smiling broadly down at her as words were spoken between them. She returned his laughter brightly, drawing back from him.

It didn't stop his second bout of surprise when Weiss stepped over to him, embracing him with perhaps a little more delicacy than Ruby. Qrow almost laughed at the sight of the poor man almost hesitantly returning it, and looking for all the world like he  _ wasn't _ trying to picture Winter. The two girls laughed softly as she drew back, and they slipped back to the rest of their friends as they began to head towards the city.

Clover felt the heavy sigh fall from him as he watched them file out, laughter spilling into the night air about them. He reached up to rub the side of his neck, warmth sitting heavy in his chest at the sight.

This simple little group of huntsmen and huntresses really did bring such a warmth with them, wherever they went, and it was utterly infectious.

He never realised how deeply he'd missed it until it was there, surrounding him once more.

The quiet sound of amusement fell from him as he stood there, and a soft nudge came to his shoulder. Green eyes glanced over to the huntsman at his side, and he easily reached for a hand, fingers lacing together in a movement that had become so utterly instinctual for the two of them.

Without so much as a word between them, they began walking deeper into the heart of the gleaming city that stretched above them, shoes crunching on the light snow. The moon, glistening and full, tracing her way high above the softening silver of the clouds, trailing her tail through the ocean of stars, and ghosting her light to the world below.

It still felt so strange.

He'd never really put any sort of thought into what would become of him upon joining the military. Having a relationship of any kind felt almost heavy or lost to him after graduation; there was simply no time for such a thing after leaving the Academy, and he never put thought into pursuing it. He only wanted to help the people around him as best as he could – to be the huntsman they needed.

The faint smile caught at the corners of his mouth.

Qrow just... happened to be a huntsman in need.

It still rang true in his chest, all the words he had spoken to Ruby that morning, and he couldn't help the wisp of a smile that ghosted across his lips. The huntsman had been a contorted mass of knots upon fraying knots, and Clover was more than honoured that he'd been allowed to gently take them into his fingers, feeling the strands begin to unravel as he picked and plucked, sifted and sorted.

He took to the task with a gentleness that never betrayed him nor the man whose trust he held in his palms, and he soon found that trust returned, as fingers sought his own tangled line.

Little by little, piece by twisted piece, they both began to unravel, and the ragged edges of knots and fraying line soon fell to the floor alongside the broken shards of glass that littered the ground.

_At the end of the day, if all I can do is make him smile a little more, then that's all either of us want, right?_

Green eyes closed briefly at the memory of the words, and fingers curled a little further about the warmth in his hand.

No, it wasn't something that either of them had sought when life had thrown them side by side, but... it was something that both of them needed. It had been the opening to something that both of them long thought lost to them, and they had both peered behind the curtain, curious and cautious, fingers gently pressing against the fragile glass that lay beyond.

_I want him to know... he has someone he can trust..._

Trust.

Such a gentle thing between them. Something so freely given and so easily shattered, and yet the huntsman had seen something in the man that could only softly encourage him to hold it out to him.

What else could he do but take it carefully into his fingers, and curl it so close to his chest?

Yet... he knew the trust that now sat full between them was almost a terrifying thing, and his heart already ached with how deep it ran. In what felt like such a short space of time, he'd found himself so utterly drawn and completely enamoured with the huntsman. So much so that...

Brunet brows pinched lightly, and the echo of that feeling haunted him once more, ghosting across his shoulders like the memory of a well-worn scarf removed after a long day of travel.

It was a particularly dangerous box to scratch, and fingers ghosted above the lid, knowing full well what lay within it.

_Because I don't want to lose you._

“Must be pretty serious...”

The breath of a voice at his senses suddenly shook Clover back to the present, and green eyes came back to focus where eyes had been looking, unseeing, at the ground. He ducked his gaze up to the huntsman, the question light on his brow after having nearly missed the words.

“Normally it's  _ me _ doing all the heavy thinking,” came the quiet laugh of an explanation.

Clover felt the soft roll of a chuckle slip from him, and he saw the world about them once more as they continued to walk.

“Mm... just thinking about us,” he admitted simply.

“Ah. Dangerous topic. Got it.”

Clover nudged his shoulder gently, wry smile upon his lips. “Not at all. Just thinking about how nice it was that luck had nothing to do with it for once.” The soft snuffle of laughter met his ears and Qrow had to press the back of his hand to his mouth, lest it burst from him entirely.

“Alright, I'll give you that one,” he told him simply, broad smile on his lips. He lowered his hand, casting a lingering glance up to the ghost of the moon as it sat within the veil of cloud and snow, glittering down on the world below. A silent aria, just for the two of them.

“Thanks, by the way... for organising tonight,” he added softly.

Green eyes blinked, entirely thrown by the statement, and he drew his gaze sharply back to the huntsman as brows pinched. How on earth had he-

“How did you-”

The knowing smile sat easily upon those lips, and Qrow inclined his head to the brunet lightly, pointing a finger towards himself. “Spy, thank you,” he gave a soft laugh, watching the street before them as he casually spoke. “I'll admit, I had a hunch when I saw the venue. We might get by pretty well, but even Weiss doesn't have enough lien tucked away for  _ that _ kind of treat.  _ And _ everyone's outfits. Not to mention the fact that Ruby is  _ never _ that distracted by her scroll, mere minutes before you arrived.  _ And _ you just  _ happened _ to be the only one invited.”

He brushed shoulders with the man, reaching up to poke his forehead. “And... you just confirmed it for me.”

Clover could only blink back at him, more than thrown for a loop at the sudden turn of events. Some days he really did seem to forget who he was standing with, and the light laugh spilled from him as brows ducked upwards. Well now.

“You really are a hell of a detective...” he breathed, shaking his head, earning him a bright and satisfied laugh. “But... you're welcome.” Red eyes turned back to him as a hand was tucked into a pocket. Clover watched the path they walked, easy smile on his face.

“They deserved it, not just after everything they've helped us with, but with everything they've been through...” his words hesitated on his tongue as he picked through them. “They deserved the chance to just forget about everything for a while, and go back to being the kids they used to be, before... before Beacon fell.”

Qrow felt his breath still in his chest at the words and brows rose faintly. It made sense that the man knew about the fall of Beacon; given his position, he had to, especially since he knew nearly everything else pertaining to their own mission.

But to realise what it meant to the kids...

He swallowed through a tight throat. It was more thought than anyone had given them since that night. Placating words of empathy and sorrow had followed them wherever they went, of course, but since then, people had really only seen them as training huntsmen and huntresses on a mission.

They still acted like kids, and were treated like kids, but... no one had ever  _ given  _ them the chance to  _ be  _ kids again.

To give them something that had been so cruelly snatched from them.

That tightness swam thick in his chest and he had to draw a steadying breath at it, letting it fall ragged from him as heat burned behind red eyes. Clover had done all of that for them, simply because he could, and simply because he cared.

_Whether it be something as simple as that, or anything else._

The words that had been spoken in quiet conclusion to his own dilemmas was something he was fast realising as the man's own creed. Something ever so simple that he lived by. Nothing needed to be complicated, and if it was, then it was still something that he could work with. If there was a problem, then he would help, no matter what that meant.

It was the only thing he stood for, and it made him a better huntsman than most.

And if there were a group of kids simply wanting to celebrate, then he would do everything in his power to help them do just that.

Fingers curled tightly about the man's in an unconscious way, drawing that gaze back up to him. Green eyes stilled on his, and Clover pulled them to a stop as he saw the thick emotion that lay behind those eyes, snow continuing to sift about them.

“Thank you...”

The breath slipped from the huntsman, and the gentle smile crossed Clover's expression, so tender that it made his chest ache all the more. Fingers reached up, threading easily into dark hair and drawing their foreheads together.

Red eyes blinked back at him, heat threatening to break free as he returned the gentle smile as best as he could. It was one thing for the man to delicately take his own troubles into his hands, but for those of the kids...

He closed his eyes, adoration swelling through him entirely again. An emotion he was sure he would never get used to feeling around the man; not with how often it managed to surprise him.

“Welcome...”

The breathy roll of a laugh fell from him and he leant forward, pressing his lips to Clover's. He felt that smile against his, and fingers reached into a dark blazer, seeking the warmth of his back.

Or he would have, if gravity hadn't started pitching underneath them with the subtle shift in their positions. Red eyes snapped open as he starkly realised feet were sliding out from beneath him on the icy footpath, and hands fisted sharply into the man's shirt for purchase, jerking Clover backwards with the action.

It was the worst mistake he could've made in hindsight, as the sudden jolt of movement had Clover darting out to steady the huntsman. With how close they were standing, the operative had no say in the matter as he was suddenly wrenched to the ground with him, the startled sound falling from them both, collapsing on top of him in an ungainly pile of limbs.

There was a breathy groan from the ground, and Qrow was staring straight up at the sky, resisting the urge to run fingers to the back of his head. Gods above and below, but now he just hurt  _ everywhere;  _ the sudden jolt of movement had  _ not _ done his body any favours _ .  _ Clover pushed himself up from where he'd landed across his chest; green eyes already darting over the other, hoping he didn't crack his head on the ground or worse. At least this time, there were no trees involved.

What surprised him was the weary sort of smile and faint huff of a laugh that spilled from the huntsman as red eyes met his. Well, at least if he was laughing, he was fine, he realised with a faint sigh of relief.

“If you say anything about bad luck, I swear...”

The bright laugh spilled from the operative as he braced himself above the huntsman, and soon enough, Qrow's own laughter was joining with it; the sound singing into the sky above them as they lay there.

At the very least, they were both still mostly warm and dry despite the snow that lay scattered upon the ground, and Clover pushed himself upright properly. He reached for the huntsman, pulling him up into a seated position, breathy laugh still tinting his lips as he helped brush some of the snow from his hair.

“Wouldn't dream of it...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that, they finally left the restaurant.


	20. Winding Down And Waking Up

Snow continued to fall, dusting the dark world of Atlas in soft greys, and bringing to the air a crispness that filled lungs with biting breath and ghosting exhale. It brushed against skin with a brittle touch, and wrought the shiver down the spine of those unprepared.

Even for those so used to the bitter cold of Solitas, the snow was never a kind place to linger, despite what joy could be found in an impromptu snowball fight.

For those who held a  _ particular _ distaste for the sharp chill of winter, Atlas with all its turbulent winds and high altitude could only offer discomfort. One specific huntsman had experienced enough variance within the seasons of the world to firmly sit within the second category, and he fought off the shiver as he walked down familiar tree-lined avenues.

Winters anywhere in Solitas were potentially one of Qrow's  _ least _ favourite climates.

Red eyes glanced up at the streetlights, and past them, further into the clouded sky, with the ghostly spire of the Academy watching over the city like a slumbering giant. The stray thought almost brought the smile to his face; the very last time he took note of that sleeping monolith shrouded within the clouds, it happened to be from this same street.

He was simply grateful that this time around, the situation seemed better for the both of them.

Not over, but... better.

Fingers curled further about his, warm and sure, and he turned to find green eyes searching his lightly. It brought the smile to his lips and nudged his shoulder gently.

“Hey,” he breathed softly. Clover gave a faint sound of acknowledgement as he leaned in to brush snow lightly from shoulders.

“Don't know about you, but I'm freezing my ass off here.”

The soft statement brought the light snort of laughter from the man, completely shattering the quiet reverie they'd fallen under. He reached into his jacket for his scroll, brushing it lightly across the lock and letting them both into the foyer.

“Your wooing skills haven't improved, you know,” he commented lightly as they headed into the relative warmth of the apartment building. A soft huff and a broad smile was his only reply as they walked.

“If it wasn't doing anything by now, I think I'd be in trouble,” came the dry response.

“Never said it wasn't doing anything,” Clover replied, arching brows. “Just that you haven't improved.”

“Mm, I don't think I need to.”

“I bet you say that to all the operatives.”

Qrow couldn't stop the soft laugh from rolling from him, and fingers squeezed gently as they headed for the man's home. He felt the familiar press of rings about his fingers with the action, and resisted the urge to lay red eyes upon them once more. He already intimately knew the sight of them, and had nearly all but committed the feel and sight of another to memory.

It still felt... light upon his hand. And yet at the same time so utterly heavy.

Something so small, and yet gleaming and proud as it shone with dull reflection.

He still didn't know whether to laugh at himself or not. It was only some weeks ago that he'd given them all away with stammering hesitation, and now he stood, wearing them once again with utter fondness. As if they'd never left him. As if they were all truly where they belonged.

Despite the warmth that sat in his chest, it was with a weary breath that Qrow felt more tired than he truly realised, and he reached up to run a hand through dark hair. Pinpricks of moisture collected upon his fingers from melted snow as they stepped into the apartment. He still couldn't stop the faint wince as he raised his arm a little too high, feeling it catch across his shoulders once more.

Gods above but he needed that hot shower.

They made their way inside, and the automatic ritual of removing shoes and jackets began. It had become something instinctual to him as they entered the threshold of Clover's home, and the very thought brought a faint pinch to his brow. He'd found himself in the man's home so often that such a habit had become normal.

Hell, he'd probably found himself here more in the last week than he had his own designated room in the Academy, and he allowed the faint smile to grace his lips.

The emotion was almost fleeting, as he realised it was also the very place where Harbinger still sat, and he tried not to let the faint unease settle in his stomach. He hadn't thought about his weapon since he left with Yang, and he glanced up at the end of the kitchen bench, red eyes falling to the place where Kingfisher lay.

Potentially where Clover had the same momentary dilemma as himself, and laid it gently down once more, knowing the night would simply carry on regardless.

Which,  _ thankfully _ , had happened. He  _ did _ dread having to make a hasty flight back to the Academy anytime soon though, and the sigh slipped from him as red eyes sought the ceiling.

Hands fell to his shoulders, and he came back to the man's gaze as he was watched intently. Clover offered him a wry smile as fingers travelled to his collar, slipping about the thin, dark fabric of the tie that lay beneath, eyes ducking away to follow. He gently began to loosen the knot, slipping it away with a dexterity that almost surprised the huntsman. To be fair, he avoided them almost exclusively so his practise was lacking; Clover probably had no say in the matter growing up in Atlas.

“You are going to have a long, hot shower,” he was told, the tone of his voice leaving no room for protest as those hands settled flat upon his chest. “And afterwards... I'm going to make  _ sure  _ you feel better.”

Fingers came together once more, about the top few buttons of Qrow's dress shirt, easily unbuttoning them, and one hand came up to brush fingertips lightly to his jaw.

“I don't want to see you for at  _ least _ half an hour,” came the firm addition.

Qrow couldn't help the warmth that trailed through his smile, and he leant a little into the delicate touch.

“Sir, yes sir...” the murmur fell from him, strongly resisting the urge to simply stay where he was and indulge in the feeling a little longer. As much as he wanted to, though, he knew that indulging in that long, hot shower would feel even  _ better.  _ His smile hitched as he drew away from the gentle touch, and stepped about the man, heading deeper into the apartment. Cheeky red eyes glanced over a shoulder as he walked.

“I'm stealing your shirt again.”

Clover laughed softly at the quip. “You would anyway.”

The huntsman conceded the point with a light shrug as he went. “I would anyway.” And then he was gone, vanished from sight. Green eyes followed the place where he once stood, and soon, the quiet breath slipped from him.

He reached up with one hand, gently loosening the knot of his own tie as he made his way to the kitchen counter where Kingfisher lay, placing both of them upon the surface. Fingers now freed, he reached for cufflinks, letting them clip apart in his fingers and setting them down alongside fabric.

Eyes lingered on the colours before him and he couldn't help but allow the faint smile to trace across his lips; fingers once more reaching for buttons at the top of his shirt, loosening the tight hold they had across his skin. As much as he appreciated giving the huntsman the startle of his life with his attire, he far preferred the same experience whilst he was comfortable.

Without a second thought, he headed for his bedroom, and more specifically, drawers that contained comfortable sweatpants. The sounds of the shower running in the ensuite told him he needn't worry about being seen and, fingers began working their way down buttons. He was soon tugging his attire off and dropping it across the bed, reaching for something that felt far softer.

He certainly held no qualms about dressing up for the occasion, but gods above, he relished the end of a night when he could simply fall into something else.

Something that made him feel more like a human, and less like a captain.

Brunet hair was scrubbed roughly, letting the feeling of the day fall away as it did with stuffy clothing, and he ran fingers through his fringe once more, smoothing it back into place. Green eyes glanced over at the closed door once more as he pulled on sweatpants, and without needing to think any further on it, reached back into his drawer and took out something for Qrow to wear, letting it fall to the end of the bed.

The quiet sigh fell from him as he ran a hand to the back of his neck, stilling in his motions. All things considered, the night had gone rather smoothly.

The faint smile ghosted across his lips as he mused on how well the night had _actually_ gone. His little plan to return Qrow's rings to him had gone off without a hitch, and he didn't even fumble his lines once. _That_ thought brought the faint brush of colour to his cheeks, and he still recalled the way he'd stewed and simmered over exactly what to say, far longer than he'd wondered what to give him.

In the end, it was all worth it though, and he'd...

Fingers drifted away from his neck, brushing lightly across a sternum as he felt his heart skitter beneath.

Qrow had said the words he thought he'd never be lucky enough to hear.

It still... felt surreal. Something he thought he'd never hear again in his lifetime, and yet, there he stood, mere hours after the fact, heart all but thudding in his chest as he replayed them over and over in his mind.

_Say it again_ ...

He almost laughed at the only words that had sprung to the forefront of his mind. Caught the way his mind had been, it was all he wanted to hear from the huntsman. Colour brushed firmly along his skin, and he cleared his throat softly, knowing he was letting himself get caught up in the moment again.

There'd certainly be more opportunities to untangle his words around him sooner or later...

Clover reached up once more, rubbing idly at the back of brunet hair, tucking thoughts firmly aside for now. He could work on it later; for now, he had other priorities that needed attending, and the quiet slip of a sigh left him. He tried not to think on how weary the events of the entire day had left him, though he was certain it felt worse for the huntsman, after all. He didn't want to _imagine_ what it felt like to fly through a snowstorm, with only frail bones and lithe feathers as protection.

Brows ducked upwards as he wandered back to the kitchen, mulling it over. With how little a fierce sparring match or battling Grimm seemed to tire the huntsman, it almost surprised him; such a flight to someone so experienced shouldn't have wrought the reaction it did. He knew that snowstorm was _bad_ , but he also know the huntsman was vastly stoic about things.

Though... Clover found himself still wanting to ask about a hundred more questions on the topic of Qrow's transformation, least of all _how_ he gained the ability, and he had to laugh softly to himself.

Perhaps when he was feeling a little more like himself, he reasoned, and fingers began reaching for mugs.

It was a natural habit; something he'd long since fallen into since his days as a cadet. A mug of tea at the end of a night to help settle his mind. Even if some mornings meant finding half emptied mugs still sitting on a coffee table, or sometimes completely forgotten on the counter after a few half-remembered sips. It was a habit that was catching, he mused with a faint smile, and he brought both steaming mug and his scroll to the couch, falling into it wearily.

Taking a short draught from his mug, he set it aside, tapping through the days events on his scroll as he discovered everything that was now waiting for him. Brows pinched lightly, taking quick stock of it all, and his mind settled back into the sharp focus of work once more; all thoughts of relaxation somewhat pushed to the wayside once more.

Well, nothing like biting off a decent chunk of it where he could.

Efficiency sure felt like a curse some days.

Green eyes skimmed the first bout of what greeted him, and he tapped a few settings on his scroll, setting it gently on the coffee table as the holographic projection of a much larger screen appeared before him. Mission reports, operation briefings, new requests on the boards, transfer documents awaiting approval, equipment requests, a hoard of messages waiting for him... the glut of information assaulted his senses a little and he cleared his throat softly, sitting up straighter as fingers swiped in front of the projection.

A bright keyboard appeared before him, and he simply started from the top, knowing he'd more than burn through his requested half an hour this way.

Eyes lost themselves to the methodical process of skimming and scouring, bringing up items in turn, fingers rapidly ghosting across keys, replying, filing, sorting, sending, sifting, repeating.

The utter downside to his position. It was a wonder he'd gotten to his age without glasses, he once thought.

It was quick and methodical, though, and he did appreciate the way he could simply switch off during the procedure at times; it certainly didn't take much thought to approve _some_ of the requests. He remembered Elm once laughing at him for the inane talent, comparing it to someone playing solitaire.

He didn't realise how deeply he'd buried the world about him until he faintly registered a gentle movement at cushions behind him, bringing him back to the present. Clover startled as he came back up for air, glancing sharply over his shoulder to find Qrow staring at the screen, arms folded on the back of the couch and processing everything that he saw, brows pinched.

“That is... horrendous,” he commented simply.

Clover gave a faint snort. “This is most evenings.”

Qrow pushed himself up from where he'd stopped, moving around to drop onto the couch next to the man, and leaning heavily against him. His skin was still warm from what was probably an obscenely hot shower, bleeding heat where it met his own. The operative smiled softly at him as green eyes skirted over the huntsman.

“How do you feel?”

The bone-weary sigh dragged from him, and Qrow let his head rest on a shoulder, hair still damp as he continued idly watching the screen in front of him. He shifted a little after a moment, falling easily back into place.

“A _lot_ better...” he conceded softly. Something still didn't sit right along his back, and he burrowed further into the couch cushions, expression pulling faintly. “Mostly.”

Clover let the quiet sound of amusement fall from him as he snaked an arm across shoulders, fingers settling into dark hair.

“Well, if you stop trying peek into my classified documents, I can help you feel better than just 'mostly,'” he told him.

The hum fell from the huntsman. “That just takes the fun out of it...” he murmured. He drew himself upright once more, brows pinching to a frown as he met those green eyes. “Kinda like how you snuck in to leave something out for me. I was looking forward to rifling through your drawers, thanks.”

_That_ drew the laugh from the operative, and Clover turned away as fingers swiped away work for now. Nothing that he couldn't get to later.

“Let me know if you find any incriminating evidence in there when you do,” came the amused reply as he drew his arm back, shifting a bit further away on the couch and turning to face the huntsman. “Now. We can either do this with you sitting up, or laying down; whatever you find more comfortable.”

The complete and utter scratch of Qrow's mind was palpable, and he blinked back at green eyes, feeling his brow furrow lightly.

“Uh... that's...”

Clover resisted the urge to sigh at the huntsman, and instead he opted for a gentle smile to soothe his addled mind. “Your muscles are still pliable from heat, so it's the best time for a massage,” he explained softly. “And you're probably going to want to take your shirt off, too.”

The huntsman felt heat flush through his skin from more than just his shower.

_Mass-_

Oh.

Red eyes darted away.

_Oh_ .

“Sitting's... fine for you, right?” Gods above, but he felt like he'd jumped ahead a few pages from where Clover was, not even realising what _chapter_ he was reading. Qrow cleared his throat softly, turning to face away from the man, legs tucking up underneath him as he reached for the hem of his shirt. Of all the things to...

He tugged it over his head and dropped it to the ground, giving hair a light shake as Clover settled behind him. He felt the heat from hands as they hovered just above skin.

“I'm sure you'll let me know, but tell me if it's too much,” came the voice from across his shoulder.

“Oh, I will,” Qrow replied, glad his mind hadn't forgotten how to immediately retort with sarcasm. “You're still within punching range, you know.”

Hands fell gently to skin, just a touch of pressure behind fingers. “Mm, but then you'd be out of pocket a damn good shrink, if I do say so myself...” he murmured, good-naturedly. Thumbs pressed deeper, running smooth and languid between shoulderblades, and Qrow already felt boneless at the touch.

Red eyes fluttered closed as all retort dried up on his tongue, and he swayed lightly with the pressure as fingers ran deep and firm along the top of his shoulders, pressing up to his neck and passing up to his hairline. He was trying earnestly not to let the groan spill from him as easy as the breath that sighed across his lips.

He let head fall forward, giving the man as much to work with as he wanted, and he realised in groggy clarity that had only taken a handful of heartbeats to reduce him to  _this_ .

“... keep doin' that and I _will_ fall asleep on you...” the murmur bled from him. Clover gave him a soft chuckle, hands moving further down the cords of his neck.

“You'll wake up when I find the bad spots...” he replied softly, fingers dragging down the top of his spine, thumbs pressing outwards in firm circles.

Dark brows pinched faintly, already knowing he was potentially going to jump out of his skin when it happened. Thanks to the course of the night, he knew where most of the tender places were already, but fingers already skirted the edge-

He couldn't stop the faint hiss,  _just_ curbing the reaction to pull entirely away from fingers in time. Clover followed the spot with his eyes, and he moved both hands about the tender area, feeling the knot of muscle that sat to the side of a shoulderblade.

“Not a surprising place...” he breathed almost to himself, delicately finding how deep he was allowed to press. He felt that form tense a little under him, and he kept his pressure the same, gliding over the one spot as the huntsman's breathing began to even out somewhat, working his way through the knot.

“You're right-handed, so your muscles will tend to tighten more on this side,” came the gentle explanation, hoping to help distract the huntsman a little.

“Mm... tell me about it...” came the murmur of a reply. “Been a problem for... a while...” he huffed quietly.

A quiet chuckle met his words. “Somehow that  _doesn't_ surprise me.”

Qrow couldn't help but let the low groan slip from him unbidden as fingers continued to press and glide across skin. It hurt, just like he knew it would, but he also knew it would feel  _vastly_ better in the morning. He just had to suffer through it a little longer, he told himself in resignation.

Maybe.

Unless fingers kept finding-

Another one, further along the edge of bone, and eyes clenched tightly shut as he waited for the almost crawling feeling to pass over him. It was like a smothering wave, and fingers soon pressed a deep path over the same spot again. Tender and downright sore, it was like something needling into nerve endings, and he drew his bottom lip between teeth, forcing the rest of his body to stay as lax as he could.

“I _am s_ urprised you managed to stay sitting so long, though...”

Clover's voice brought him back a little, and he released the soft breath he'd been holding tight in his chest.

“Practise, I guess,” came the short reply.

There was a soft hum of the operative's voice. “You're out of practice then,” he gave a quiet breath of a laugh, fingers seeking the other side of his spine. It already felt as bad as the first.

“Oh?”

His voice was languid as fingers gently pressed, rubbing firm against skin and mapping out muscles underneath.

“I saw you stepping outside more than once,” he explained softly, his tone wry.

Qrow conceded the point with a sigh, knowing he was bound to have been spotted during the course of the night. “Didn't... really want the others to worry about me all that much.”

Hands stilled on his skin. “Jaune noticed.”

“Only when it was staring him in the face,” the huntsman told him with a soft laugh. “ _And_ at the end of the night, thanks.” There was a brief pause before fingers continued moving once more.

“Your nieces noticed...” the operative's voice insisted gently, skirting a smaller knot. “Weiss. Blake, definitely. And I don't think you escaped from either Ren nor Oscar; those two are pretty sharp.”

“You could just say everyone...” Qrow murmured to himself. The sharp breath drew across his tongue as fingers reached his lower back, pressing deep across something he'd missed earlier. It almost made him jump from his spot as nerve endings were set alight, and his own fingers clenched in his lap.

“How long did it take you to fly back?”

Qrow let out the breath he'd been holding, feeling it slip slowly across his tongue. Red eyes blinked a little, thrown by the sudden question, and his mind skittered past the feeling of fingers pressing into muscle.

“Ah... maybe... fifty minutes or so?” he told him softly, almost blessedly glad for the distraction.

Fingers slowed a little, brows pinching absently. “Where  _were_ you?” came the softly incredulous question. The huntsman thought a little on it, bringing his mind back to the map that once sat in his hand. Gods, but he could still picture how tiny and insignificant those Flagships were...

“Past the western mountain range, down in the valley. Lotta trees down there.”

There was a handful of time, and Qrow realised hands had fallen still upon his back. He resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder at the man, though the silence  _did_ surprise him.

“I thought you said you had a rough flight...” Clover breathed.

“Yeah, I _did_ ,” came the instant retort, brow pinching.

“That's... Qrow, that still takes a Manta over twenty minutes to reach the centre of that valley. Not even _counting_ the extra time taken due to a snowstorm,” the operative told him incredulously. “How did-”

He cut himself off, letting the heavy sigh slip from him as hands pressed flat to the huntsman's back. How on  _earth_ did a bird not even from this clime manage to brute force it's way up to Atlas in the time frame he just told him?

“Gods, no wonder you're like this...”

The snatch of words was almost lost to Qrow's ears and he  _did_ glance across his shoulder at it. “Well, you've met Yang,” he told him gently. “I wasn't going to be late.” Green eyes stared back at him before the tired smile found him, and he was huffing out a soft laugh.

He leant forward, pressing his forehead to the nape of Qrow's neck. “You're allowed to take better care of yourself, you know...” The snort fell from the huntsman and couldn't help but smile broadly to himself, reaching gingerly over a shoulder to run fingers through short hair.

“That's what you're here for,” he answered simply.

The huntsman felt the soft roll of laughter between his shoulders, and the warmth of breath upon skin before Clover was moving, shifting from where he stayed. Heat blossomed at the nape of his neck and the tip of his nose brushed gently to short hair as the operative placed a lingering kiss to skin.

Red eyes closed at the feeling as fingers slipped gently back from brunet strands. Clover drew away after a moment to press fingers gently to the small of his back, smile still wreathing his expression.

“I guess I am...” came the simple breath of a laugh.

It still didn't stop Qrow from jumping when thumbs pressed against another tender spot, and Clover could only softly laugh his apologies to the huntsman, seeking a better approach. Gently, time and again, fingers would find their way through the mess of knots across his back, and the further they travelled, the more Qrow's nerves were set alight.

He was vastly used to pain, but even this was pushing the tentative friendship he had with his body. True to his word, however, he let himself sit through it as best as he was able, despite almost needing to tense up more than a few times.

Clover, it seemed, was as skilled at finding all his sore spots as he was at getting under his skin, and it drew the faint smile to his lips. He knew without a doubt he was going to be utterly tender in the morning, but there was something so incredible about the way fingers knew just how deep to press.

Red eyes closed as the almost magical sensation of hands doing exactly what they wanted to his back drove everything else from his mind. Clover had found a gentle rhythm of reprieve for the huntsman, and now that he knew where most of those tender spots were, hands dragged deep and gentle across muscle. Qrow let himself focus on the feeling of warmth that bled from them, with pressure so delicate in parts, yet firm and sure at others.

It had him feeling utterly boneless, and he was surprised he hadn't fallen asleep on the man.

There was a particularly needling part along his spine, though, and Clover allowed his thumbs to press deep and slow, pushing over it as he felt the way that body tensed up a little.

He lightened his pressure, finding the edge of it instead, and starting his approach once more. Qrow let the almost silent hiss fall across his tongue, slow and steady as he kept himself from jumping out of his skin.

Clover knew he was trying his best, but given the state of him, he was probably at his wits' end. Which meant he knew exactly how to alter his course.

Fingers changed their tack, finding the nape of Qrow's neck and dragging further up into dark hair. With just the right amount of pressure, they scored across his scalp, deep and slow, nails curling back in languid circles near his temples. There was a breathy slip of a groan, and fingertips pressed deeper as they dredged to the crown of his head. They lingered for a moment, and started their descent once more to his neck.

As they reached his hairline, they began their upwards path once more, scoring and slow, dragging through dark hair as one hand stayed at the huntsman's neck, fingertips pressing in deep circles at the cords of his neck. It was downright heavenly, and Qrow was contemplating all but melting against those hands, particularly as fingertips scored a wide path downwards once more, ending in a gentle press of hands to shoulders, falling entirely still.

The huntsman had just about turned to jelly in his hands, and Clover resisted the urge to laugh at him.

He leant in, brushing his lips to the expanse of his neck once more. “Better?”

The word all but bled between them, and Qrow had to remember what it was like to come back up for air. He languidly blinked red eyes in the space before him, and the heavy sighed dragged itself from the back of his throat. He found the boneless smile ghost across his lips, wondering how he managed to stay awake through all that.

“... sure you wanna stay a shrink?” he murmured, allowing the quiet roll of a laugh to fall from him.

“You haven't fired me yet,” Clover replied. “But for what it's worth, you feel a lot better now. I'm also very proud of you; I didn't get punched once.”

The languid roll of a laugh met his ears, and Qrow was shuffling in his place a little; moving himself further back so he could lean against the man behind him, skin warm where it met. Clover drew his hands down, letting arms wrap loosely about his waist as he placed his chin to a shoulder, thumb idly drifting across an angry red scar.

“Think I could do with another day of that...” the huntsman breathed, almost groggily, fingers drifting to the man's arm.

“Mm, I think I can spare another hour...”

_That_ caught him by mild surprised, and Qrow blinked red eyes open. He was  _ sure _ he heard that wrong-

Without moving, he glanced up to the far wall, where a clock hung above a bookshelf, and he found dark brows pinching lightly.

“Is that... right?” he asked, pointing lazily at it.

Clover followed his gaze, not quite keeping up with the change of pace, and he  _ did _ laugh softly at the huntsman, letting himself relax against him once more. Fingers continued to drift lightly along skin, brushing along a line of dead nerves.

“Well... yes,” he told him simply. “It's been an hour.”

“... oh.” A silent beat of time, and Qrow cleared his throat softly. “Guess I... zoned out there for a while...”

There was a faint hum along his shoulder. “You needed it. However,” he added, arms giving a faint squeeze about the huntsman's waist, “you shouldn't stay still for a little while. Keep moving to stop yourself seizing up.”

Qrow gave a breathy laugh as he sat upright once more, drawing away from that warm body as hands settled on his waist. He reached his arms up high, stretching deep as fists curled tight and he arched lightly, feeling muscles tighten briefly. He felt like he'd just awoken from his promised ten hour nap, which he was  _ still  _ going to take, thank you.

There would be no room for argument there.

“Alright, alright...” he ground out, letting his arms drop once more. “Moving it is.”

He reached for one of those hands as he stood, threading fingers within his own. Clover got to his feet, noting how different the connection still felt with rings sitting between their fingers. Red eyes stared down at him with a wry smile, and the operative had to raise a brow at him.

He knew there was something planned behind those eyes.

“And what did you have in mind?” came the gentle question.

That smile hitched in response.

“I was thinking something a little... relaxing,” Qrow answered with a nonchalant gesture of his hand. “Especially now I know how good of a dancer you are.”

The words drew the short hum of amusement from the operative, and green eyes closed briefly. Well then. He could certainly indulge the huntsman in that request, even if he couldn't help but tease a little. Fingers gave a gentle squeeze as he met that gaze once more, an almost apologetic shrug falling from him.

“Even without the grand piano?”

Qrow tilted his head in mild contemplation, faint smirk tinting his lips. “I'm sure you keep  _ something _ on that scroll of yours. It can't all be business and no pleasure,” he told him simply. Clover had to concede the point to the huntsman, and with a warm smile, reached for the device.

His thumb swiped through a few menus, tapping something open, and with gentle finality, dropped it onto the couch as he stood to join the man. Gentle chords began to sift through the space around them, and Clover drew in close to the huntsman, collecting fingers about his hand properly as his other one made its way to the curve of his shoulder.

“I'll even let you lead this time,” he told him softly, feeling hands settle further about him.

Qrow gave a breathy laugh, stepping them back into the open space of the living area. No need to add further injury or strain to the night by stumbling over a coffee table or couch.

“How generous...” he murmured, brushing his nose to the man's.

They moved gently to the music, foreheads pressed gently to one another's, and simply enjoying the space they'd come to find themselves so comfortable within. Eyes closed as they lost themselves to the warmth of their embrace, feeling for all the world like the only two people in the world that truly mattered.

For a handful of time, it was all they wanted to believe in.

And so, they allowed themselves to simply indulge in that very notion.

Nothing but their shared slice of time, the gentle music, a soft closeness, and the warmth that bled between scant space.

Qrow brushed his nose gently to the man's. “... still can't believe you picked the fish...”

All Clover could do was laugh with brightly along with him.

***

The gentle chime of an alarm sang both harsh and sweet to senses still lost to slumber. There came a soft draw of breath as slender fingers slipped through the darkness, reaching for where a scroll lay within easy reach, fumbling but once as dreams still chased limbs.

Ice blue eyes blinked open in the darkness as fingers silenced the chime, and silver hair spilled across a forehead as she rolled onto her back.

Winter stared almost blearily at the darkness of her ceiling, lips parted in silent breath as lungs caught up to her sudden awakening. She allowed herself a moment of peace, fingers still curled about her scroll in the darkness before the pre-dawn; it would've been so easy to ignore it all and simply go back to sleep for most people, but sleep was already long gone from her.

Arms stretched above her head, feeling the movement curl deep down to her very toes as she rolled muscles awake, body pulling taut. The sigh falling from her as she let herself fall still upon the pillow once more.

Yet another morning. Yet another day closer to...

Eyes narrowed faintly in the darkness, and she refused to let herself dwell on the words. Instead she was up. Moving. Pushing herself from under the covers and to her feet, bare and padding across the floor, the languid yawn overtaking her for a handful of time.

Fingers were already swiping at her scroll, lights blaring on harshly as devices around her connected and came to life for the ritual of waking up. Bringing her day to a start as she reached the kitchen, and a hand was automatically feeling for a hair tie placed there from the night before. Hair was gathered in a messy ponytail; something that would serve its purpose until it came time to collect herself more thoroughly. Properly.

She drew in a deeper breath, letting it sit full in her lungs for a heartbeat, allowing it to slip from her, languid and low, stirring her mind to alertness once again. Breakfast.  _ Coffee _ . She needed both, and fingers flicked the little machine awake, something far more tolerable than the barely passable stuff they served at the Academy.

Fingers ran to the back of her neck, weariness still wanting to pluck at her senses somewhat, and she knew it was going to dog her until she shook free from its clutches. A shower. Something sharp to awaken her, she decided. And coffee would be waiting for her upon her return.

Now  _ there _ was a wonderful notion.

Winter made her way back to her bedroom, collecting fresh clothing and setting it out for her return. Fingers pulled at what she wore as she made her way to the bathroom, dumping it into the hamper along the way. It took only a practised minute, something borne from a veritable lifetime in the military, and she was stepping out of the shower once more, feeling far more awake and refreshed than earlier as she scrubbed skin dry.

With a towel still slung across her shoulders, she pulled on the start of her uniform and buttoned pants. It was only as fingers reached for a crisp shirt, slipping into it and gliding easily over buttons that her scroll chimed. The sigh almost left her in scant relief. She was quicker than she thought; her coffee was ready and waiting.

Making no hesitation in collecting it, she reached for the cup, bringing it swiftly to her lips and savouring that first taste. Gods above and below, but it was heavenly.  _ Now _ she was almost ready to face the day.

She stood at the counter, cup delicately held in fingers as she tapped through her scroll with the other, ice blue eyes skimming news along with new reports, requests and messages, briefings and mission alerts.

Having completed and submitted the bulk of her weekly reports the night before, it left only the little scraps and loose ends to deal with in the morning. And where some chose to tend to the business of scraps in the evenings, she found it best to attack such a thing in the early hours of the day. What better way to awaken the mind than to do so with such bluntness?

What better time to do so, than with the only slice of peace she felt allowed in this world?

She scrolled quickly through the news feed for the morning, her mind sifting and sorting through the media spin and the facts almost as quickly as the images whizzed by. Coffee came to her lips occasionally, and it was with a blink of hindsight that she paused, something coming into hazy focus.

Winter scrolled a little further back up, a light furrow crossing her brow.

The article in question returned to her; a local dignitary seen rubbing shoulders with Councilman Sleet. The title held little interest to her, so too, did the content, but there was something...

She brought up the image attached to it, now more than curious. Over the man's shoulder sat a familiar spill of silver hair, and she drew a soft breath at it, enlarging it further.

“Weiss..?” the name slipped from her in light confusion. What on earth had her sister been doing in such a place? Surely they hadn't the funds nor the means to make such a reservation, even  _ if  _ she was using her name to grant them all access. More to the point, what was...

Her brow furrowed, recognition of a different type ringing through her mind, and she placed her coffee to the counter. It was a sobering sort of feeling, she realised, and almost immediately recognised the familiar taste of irritation ticking through her.

She'd turned down the invitation without a second thought, and yet...

What... was  _ he _ doing there?


	21. Hunting a Trace And Holding a Home

Clover waved lightly to the small group of cadets he passed in the hall, smile easy on his lips as he made his way to the elevator. In the short wait that followed, he reached for his scroll, tapping out a few short replies to further messages and requests that had arrived. Nothing like being productive on the fly, he mused.

With a soft ding, doors slid open, and he stepped back to allow a few others to exit, smiling back at them as he took their place. He waved his scroll lightly to the panel, and it dinged in acceptance, beginning the long trek to the top of the immense tower.

With the scant amount of time he now had to himself, he turned to glance out of the impressive glass window. Green eyes took in the jagged line of the horizon; both from the city and the mountain range that stretched beyond it. The thin seam of dawn's light had begun to touch the edges of buildings, glinting off glass and steel. But the mountains... it was the mountain range that caught his full attention, and the higher he travelled, the more he utterly marvelled at it.

Bearing the full brunt of the dawning sun as it slipped across the horizon, light seared through the very atmosphere, bathing what seemed like the entire kingdom in a fiery wash.

The snow was all but set ablaze in the morning glow, sparkling with the ferocity of the sun itself.

He was lost to the way it looked, senses caught entirely as he placed a hand to the glass. He'd always appreciated the sight of dawn from the heights of the Academy, but ever since that morning, encased within the very sky and finding himself dizzyingly high above the mountains...

Gods above, but he wanted to soar above them once more...

The breath fell from him, a gentle yearn sitting in his chest at the vivid recollection of euphoria in his veins, and he drew his hand away from cool glass. He swallowed lightly, already feeling his heartbeat skitter in his chest as his mind chased the memory. Perhaps it would be too forward to ask Ruby about it again, after such a short time. But requesting a Manta of his own for an afternoon felt almost bland after being veritably thrown into the sky like that.

The quiet laugh fell from him at the notion of such a thing, and he reached up to rub lightly at the side of his neck.

He was letting his excitement get the better of him again.

There was a quiet ding from the elevator, and he turned around to see doors slide open, Marrow stepping into it with a bright wave and an even brighter smile as he clutched his coffee.

“Hey! Morning!” the young man greeted him, stepping in next to him. “You're up early, boss.”

“Well, there's a lot to accomplish today. The General wants to go over a few things before we get started, and both cities are still playing clean-up from that snowstorm,” he explained, hands settling on his hips as he watched the numbers tick slowly upwards. “Equipment's been harder to come by lately, so it's been requested that the Military step in to assist, which I think is a wonderful idea. On top of that, there's still the usual day of missions, meetings and training.”

He glanced at the young man with a wry smirk. “Hope you brought enough of that for the rest of the day.”

“Well... it is why I'm here earlier,” came the easy reply. “Gotta grab the good stuff when you can, and you have to make the first one count.” He sighed as he tapped the top of his cup lightly. “Though given the way our days have been lately, this is just a pit stop on the way to my  _ second _ one in about half an hour,” he told him very matter-of-factly.

The quiet chuckle fell from both of them as Marrow took a sip of his coffee, thoroughly enjoying the heat and flavour. He sighed as he held it in both hands, letting the warmth filter gently into his fingers. He gave a light sniff, feeling something tickle his nose, and he reached up to rub at it idly.

“I could just team you up with Harriet again,” Clover mentioned easily. “That seems to keep you awake well enough.”

“Well, yeah!” came the immediate defence. “Because she's always trying to harass me on the job or get under my skin or something else. Totally  _ not _ professional, by the way.” The quiet grouse was punctuated by another sip of his coffee, and he sniffed lightly once more, glancing down at it.

Brows furrowed lightly, unable to place the source of his sudden interest.

He glanced upwards, looking around the elevator for anything untowards, as something kept tickling his senses. Clover cast green eyes over to him, his own brow pinching as he noticed something amiss with the operative.

“You alright there?”

Marrow opened his mouth to reply, but he found the words caught on his tongue. His sense of smell in particular was far keener than most, thanks to his Faunas traits, and talking about it was something that still made him baulk, even if he  _ was _ standing with someone who was more than accepting of his race.

“It's... I don't know...” he answered almost absently, still finding that faint...  _ something _ in the air.

He gestured lightly to the space before him, staring down at his coffee. There... wasn't anything wrong with his order, that much he knew immediately.

“Something... smells kind of...  _ off _ ,” he conceded simply, head tilting a little and closing his eyes, trying to identify the source of it. Clover knew better than most to trust the young man's judgement on something, and he glanced upwards.

“Well... they did go through regular air conditioning maintenance last night,” he offered helpfully. “Maybe that has something to do with it?” His scroll chimed lightly, and he fished it out, attention pulled from the conversation.

“... no, it's not that...” Marrow said absently, letting his senses drift as he breathed deeper, languidly, trying to zero in on that one little detail as brows furrowed. “It's... something familiar... that I can't quite put my finger on...”

Green eyes stayed firmly on his scroll, his smile hitching. “Your senses are stronger than most,” he told him. “So long as it's nothing dangerous, I wouldn't worry about it too much.” Marrow perked at that, and he darted his gaze over to the operative.

“No, no! It's nothing like that!” he answered quickly. “If someone were trying to gas us out of here, they really could've picked a less stupid place to do it.”  _ That _ earned him a soft laugh, and Marrow reached up to thumb at the end of his ascot lightly. Whatever it was still sat on the edge of his senses, and he just  _ knew _ it was going to gnaw at him all day until he'd figured out what it was.

The elevator gave a light ding, and Clover tucked his scroll away, glancing up at their floor. “Regardless, it's time to get to work,” he told the young man, the back of his hand giving him a gentle rap to the shoulder as he walked out into the hall.

After a few paces, he realised that the only footsteps he could hear echoing within the hall were his own, and he came to a stop. Green eyes glanced behind him, noticing the empty air, and his brow pinched faintly, waiting for his team mate to arrive.

Marrow had utterly frozen where he stood, pale eyes blinking a little as his senses did a complete double-take, tail perked upwards. Was it coming from...

No, it couldn't be...

There came another ding from the elevator, and he startled back to the present, darting out of the doors as they began to close in front of him. He did  _ not _ want to wait through another lengthy return trip. He fell into step alongside Clover, giving a faint laugh.

“Sorry. Kinda... thought I forgot something back at my place for a second,” he told the operative simply, taking a hefty swig from his coffee. Clover could only smirk at him as they walked towards the briefing room.

“And you wonder why Harriet needles you so often...” he murmured.

“Wow, rude,” Marrow pouted, and the man at his side could only laugh at him.

The young man was almost glad for the hasty switch in topics, and they chatted easily as they made their way through the vaulted halls of the Academy; sun streaking in where it could through vast windows. Dawn touched the building, slowly warming cold steel and frigid floor, though it certainly couldn't chase away the ever present chill from how high they now stood.

Much like his own thoughts, it lingered, and Marrow tried not to let his brows pinch as they walked together. More than once, he let his gaze sneak over to the man at his side, wondering why this persistent whatever-it-was seemed to be coming from him.

He still couldn't put a finger on it, but...

There was something so familiar about it. It was  _ utterly _ going to stay in his mind until he'd worked out the source, regardless of the fact it was already driving him mad.

He wondered how subtle it would be to request to team up with the operative for the day, and perhaps leave Harriet to her own devices. Gods knew she probably wanted the break from him anyway.

If not, then it would simply be a matter of wracking his brain until he found the solution. Either that or following his boss home out of sheer curiosity. He brought his coffee to his lips, hastily dispelling  _ that _ notion; he did  _ not _ want to get into anymore trouble than he usually did. And especially not for something like  _ that _ .

Oh, but Clover  _ had  _ just finished that week of patrols down in Mantle, his thoughts helpfully reminded him. Perhaps that's why it seemed so familiar. It  _ would _ explain why that scent was lingering on him.

But... even just being in Mantle for hours on end wouldn't cause this whatever-it-was to seep into clothing and skin the way it seemed to be emanating from him.

And he really didn't want to ask his boss about any of his extra-curricular activities; _that_ just seemed way too unprofessional and _certainly_ out of line.

Pale eyes narrowed faintly, lost deep in his little mystery.

Or he was, until he bodily collided with the man in question, hands hastily snatching about his coffee to stop it from spilling.

“Sorry! Sorry, I-!”

The words shot from him in a flounder, and a steadying hand darted to his shoulder from where Clover had stopped at the door to the briefing room. The man was trying his hardest not to laugh at the poor thing and his distraction, and he could only smile down at him.

“I think you need to finish that coffee of yours pronto,” the operative told him with a pointed tilt of his head. Pale eyes could only blink rapidly back at him, collecting himself once more.

“Right,” he said, ducking his gaze down to it. “Just... caught up in my head for a second.” Marrow felt the flush of embarrassed heat tickling under his ascot. Clover let his hand drop, resting on his hip easily.

“Well, so long as you stay with us for the important parts, I won't go stopping you,” came the simple reply. “Though ah, not like this, at least,” he added with a soft laugh. The young man joined him in the quiet amusement, and he rubbed the side of his neck.

“Don't worry, I think I'm good for now. I mean, if I can handle Harriet, I can handle anything, right?” he told the man with a smile. It was something he was firmly trying to tell himself, even as his mind was all but yelling at him to do otherwise. The man was downright  _ covered _ in that faint scent now that he was closer, and it was  _ utterly _ going to hound him until he found its source.

Clover could only smile at him, pushing the door open. “That's the spirit.”

It was going to be a long day, indeed.

***

Sunlight tickled senses and warmed exposed skin, heralding the start of a new day in a gently intrusive way. From where he lay in the morning light, brows furrowed in disturbed sleep, and the huntsman rolled over, turning away from the irritation of dawn's light as the faint slip of sound fell from him. Covers were bunched up about his face, chasing the slumber that now eluded him, and he tucked his head further towards the warmth at his side.

Or what should have been at his side.

There came a sleepy sort of realisation, and a hand slid out through the sheets, seeking outwards with a soft exhale. When his fingers found nothing but cool material, he languidly blinked red eyes open, seeing only the expanse of the bed before him, and a thin sheen of sunlight basking everything in its glow.

But not the person that should have been there.

In a sobering moment of wakefulness, he pushed himself upright on one arm, eyes sweeping across the empty space before settling on the doorway. He let his senses concentrate on the rest of the apartment, yet he heard nothing. No signs nor sounds of activity within the walls.

Dark brows pinched. He was the only one there.

It certainly wasn't like him to sleep through a disturbance of any kind, let alone someone shuffling about next to him. Nor was it in his habit to sleep past sunrise these days, and he glanced over at the window and the glittering skyline of Atlas beyond. Those wondrous hands had done more to help him fall into a deeper sleep than he realised.

The slow breath slipped from him in a heavy sigh and he sat upright properly, legs folding underneath him as covers bunched at his waist. The yawn started overtaking him with the movement, and all other motion stopped, letting it fill his lungs as wakefulness began to return to his body. A hand reached up, brushing through hair idly as the faint ghost of a smile tinted his lips.

Right as he was getting used to waking up in his arms, too...

He couldn't help the sound of amusement that slipped from him, and he pushed the covers back. Feet landed on the floor and he stretched upwards, feeling his back almost sing in heady protest. His expression scrunched in mild discomfort as muscles that had seized overnight were once again forced to move.  _ Gods,  _ but it still hurt; yet it was a far better hurt than the previous night. Qrow felt joints stretch and pop as his body woke up once more, and the almost strained groan fell from him before he dropped his arms to his sides.

He knew he would've been in greater pain if it weren't for the assistance last night.

Of a blessed hot shower, warm hands, sure and firm, and a second dance, so gentle and sweet. Clover had a downright magical touch, and the simple relief it brought to his aching body was nothing short of wondrous. He already had plans to ask him again in the future.

The smile found him as thoughts drifted further to the rest of the night, and the complete and utter joy he'd experienced for the first time in months. It had been an absolutely extraordinary night, and he was more than glad he got to spend the time with his family in such a way. To simply be with them and talk. Of family and festivities, of good food and good company...

And of words he thought he'd never say again.

Red eyes blinked a little at the quiet realisation, and fingers curled in the covers, feeling his heart skitter in his chest. It was almost too easy to forget about it as his hazy mind still went through the motions of waking up, but he really... had said that... hadn't he..?

Heat brushed along his neck, and he glanced down at his hand with all it's familiar adornments, both old and new. It had sounded so right and just so... normal. So natural. Perhaps because part of him had believed it for some time now.  _ That _ part definitely still caught him by surprise occasionally, and he let fingers brush across his stomach, finding purchase on skin and wanting to chase the butterflies away.

_Say it again..._

Gods above, but he really did feel like a teenager again at times, and not the capable and functioning adult he claimed to be.

The huff of a laugh left him, and Qrow stood, padding silently into the rest of the apartment and towards the kitchen. Towards  _ coffee _ , more specifically. He could sit and stare at his new ring all he wanted, but it wouldn't do him any good if he was falling asleep where he sat. The tired sound slipped from him as he beelined for where he knew mugs sat and salvation lay, and he found himself stopping short of it.

He blinked down at the mug waiting for him, and the slip of paper that sat within it. Lips curled into a smile as he withdrew it. For the most technologically wondrous place on the globe, he almost laughed at the idea of the guy still preferring to leave a handwritten note.

He was surprised people in Atlas even remembered what paper was, at times.

_Sorry to cut and run before the sun's up, but meetings wait for no operative and Winter takes no prisoners. Enjoy your day off. I'll be back in time for dinner and another dance._

Red eyes drifted across the note, and he snorted lightly at it, placing it down once more. Of course he would sign off with a picture of his namesake. It was insufferable and heartwarming all at once, he mused as fingers busied themselves with coffee.

Enjoy his day off, huh...

It almost felt foreign to have downtime of any sort these days, even if he  _ had _ all but demanded it of himself lately. A broken arm usually put a dampener on any sort of activities. Chief of all was his complete inability to fly. Of all the things he was unable to do, it seemed to be the only one that stung the most. It was no wonder it had been an almost unconscious decision back in that canyon; to take flight as soon as he could and round on the Nevermore.

Still, even with his former circumstances, he knew he was still capable enough to go out on missions  _ and _ spar with someone practically his equal.

The smile found him at the memory of their match, and he knew he would never stop wanting another round.

Clover certainly didn't get to his position by sheer luck, and he damn well knew it. The man was a huntsman through and through, and fighting him was like setting his senses alight. It was a thrill like no other, and he still wanted another chance to fight him full force.

Yet... it wasn't something he could do on a day off, and certainly not without the operative present. Qrow gave a sigh as he brushed the thoughts to the side. What...  _ was _ he actually going to do for this time off? He was certainly going to check in with the girls; they'd probably come out of their collective food coma sometime by mid-morning, and he wanted to make sure they were still functioning.

After that, well... it was a nice day out. Perhaps he'd simply take time to wander through Atlas and see what had actually changed in the years since he was last in the city for leisure.

He brought his coffee to his lips, red eyes staring over the apartment in idle thought as he leant against the counter. For the amount of time he'd spent travelling Remnant, he still found Atlas to be a fascinating place with how often it changed. Nevermind his thoughts on the climate, but the city itself still astounded him at times.

And he already had a decent lay of the land, thanks to his impromptu flight back, and previous wanderings. He was certain he passed a library of sorts on the way back to the Academy, and he made a mental note to find its location on his scroll later.

No, Atlas was never a good place to stand still; everything else kept moving around you and threatened to bury you at times. Not that busy was bad; just the huntsman preferred things on the simpler side.

Brows ducked upwards and he rolled his eyes lightly across the rim of his mug. It was precisely why he was travelling with his teams to collect world-defying relics created by the gods, in order to stop an unkillable sorceress. Simple. Of course.

He placed his mug to the counter with a soft clink, folding his arms across his chest as the sigh fell from him. There was so much going on in all their lives that the whole Salem situation seemed like a drop in the ocean at times. It was a horrendous way to think about it, but when all they wanted was normalcy from time to time, it was the  _ only _ way to think about it.

Put what needed to be put in a box, and move on from that.

It had served him pretty well so far in life.

When you didn't want to acknowledge something, there was always plenty of opportunity to tuck it away – either for now or for good.

Red eyes narrowed faintly, knowing he was scratching the surface of a particularly dangerous selection of boxes. The sharp sigh punched from him in finality and he pushed away from the counter, snatching up his coffee and downing the rest of it in one hit. He was  _ not _ about to start his day with those kind of thoughts.

He strode back to the bedroom, knowing at the very least there was something in his size that now lived in the wardrobe. Qrow wanted freedom for the day, and he was going to start with a cafe they passed last night. Breakfast outside seemed a good first step, and he reached for a fresh shirt.

It was in his determination for freedom that he found himself wandering almost aimlessly down the broad streets of Atlas, time almost lost to him as he took in the sights of the city that had changed so much. Hands were tucked into the pockets of dark jeans, wrists bunching up the base of the grey Academy hoodie he wore. Not that he wanted to become a walking advertisement for the place, just that it was warm, and about the only thing he could find of the man's that had sleeves. Even if he had immediately pushed them up to his elbows out of habit.

Perhaps he'd head back to his assigned room at the Academy, just so he could have something to actually wear whilst he was at Clover's...

The thought brought the faint stirrings of heat to his neck, and he blinked down at the footpath he walked. He really...  _ had _ been living from the man's apartment for the last few days, it seemed. Found his routine had changed ever so slightly, and his feet had started walking a different direction to his lodgings one day. He was almost surprised no one had questioned his absence at the Academy, least of all, his nieces. Maybe he'd just been downright lucky with their sense of timing when it came to visiting him.

Or maybe they knew he'd all but moved out, and they simply didn't know where Clover lived. No, no, that wasn't right – if it was, then he would have been utterly bombarded by messages from all of them. That thought brought the heat very firmly to his neck and brows furrowed lightly.

Luck, then. It was just luck.

He cleared his throat softly, reaching up to rub the side of his neck and wanting to chase away the flush from his skin. It wasn't something he'd outwardly addressed with the man, and Clover, bless his soul, had simply taken it as he took most other things – completely in stride.

Qrow had simply slipped into his life and his home, as easily and as comfortably as if he'd always been there. And Clover welcomed him in as if it had happened years ago.

It... almost startled him with how simple it had been.

About how nice it actually felt.

Red eyes blinked a little at the gentle heat that sat at the back of his throat, and he withdrew the hand from his neck, letting his gaze settle upon the ring adorning his finger. Dark brows held a light furrow as he took in its intricate details, and he found his steps slowing, drawing him to a halt.

_They say home is where the heart is, right?_

The soft words rang as clear as day through his mind, echoing gently in his heart and causing it to skitter strangely in his chest. Home was... a strange concept to him. Foreign almost. He'd stayed in plenty of places in the course of his life; the longest of all being Taiyang's, if he wasn't counting Beacon.

But even that home always felt... constricting to him. Like something was amiss. It was a strange feeling that he could never quite put his finger on, but there was something about it that always made his skin itch. In the years since Summer's passing, there had always been a light missing from under that roof, even if no one else could see it. Hell, the last time he'd set foot in the place, it had all but been a den of despair.

Even if he hadn't been there to experience it fully during those shattered months, he knew enough that it only furthered his feelings on the place. Yang, who had all but given in to the sorrow in her heart and was an empty shell of herself. Ruby, who wanted nothing more than to be the shining light of happiness and hope for all of them, yet was nothing more than a flickering candle; a shade of her former self. Even Taiyang, who found himself unable to do nothing but carry on for his girls with a ghost of a smile, knowing that the pain would never truly leave.

Qrow felt it every single time he stepped into that place. Sorrow. Shade. Pain. It clung to the walls like mould and it twisted deep in his heart with every step across wooden floorboards.

They all carried the fracture of that day under their roof.

The fall of Beacon had taken a toll on every one of them, after all.

Red eyes blinked a little, ducking away from his hand to shake some of the thoughts aside. It had been a terrible time for his girls, but... part of him, some small buried part, was glad that they'd come out of it stronger, more resilient.

He just wished they'd never had to go through it all to begin with.

Even all those years ago with the tribe, however far off that seemed now, had always been a place of hardship and condemnation. Something bitter that scarred his memories as it scarred his skin.

There had been fleeting memories of happiness, but they were simply that. Fleeting. Something to be snatched at like smoke, and swept aside just as quickly.

Growing up in the tribe had been a harsh world for a child; a cruel existence that only reinforced his notion that home was earned and never promised. That something was never given freely without expecting payment. That you were never guaranteed anything in this life.

Brows pinched sharply, as he found his thoughts straying. He could couple every experience of finding a home for himself with the fact that misfortune and strife slithered about his shoulders, and... well...

It became harder and harder to envision himself staying in one place for too long, lest he find himself becoming comfortable. Relaxed. Unaware to the catastrophe that lay just outside of view, just around the corner.

No, home was... a hard concept for him.

The sigh slipped from him, red eyes closing briefly as he scored fingers through dark hair, as if trying to shake off the darker thoughts. He was supposed to be enjoying his day, not lamenting the past, his mind whispered, wringing the smirk from his lips.

He drew his gaze back up to where he stood, and brows almost ducked to his hairline in surprise. Qrow glanced about him, feeling entirely misplaced, and he turned to stare over his shoulder at the long distant spire of the Academy, and the city stretching behind him.

Without even thinking about it...

Blinking, he turned back to the outlook he stood upon, and he placed a hand upon the back of a bench, watching the horizon stretch out before him. The very place he'd sat alone, only a couple of weeks ago, watching the night sky and then...

Then...

_ Winding up here with the kids... I think was the best fortune I've had in a long while _ .

His own words stirred in his heart as he sank onto the bench, fingers lingering on the wood as his eyes were lost to the vast stretch of mountains and clouds and endless sky before him. His feet had carried him aimlessly, and his thoughts had been blanketed by distraction. So much so, that he'd had no real bearing for where he was heading.

He'd simply... walked. Through city and streets, past buildings and parks, letting his body do what it will.

Until it brought him exactly to the place his thoughts were scattered to the winds. Exactly to where... things had started to change. He leant forward, elbows resting on his knees as his hands fell lax, red eyes sweeping across the bright horizon.

How fortunate he'd been indeed...

The words from that night mingled together in his thoughts like someone stirring a deep pot, all manner of laughter and light, of heaviness and hurting, of weariness and wanting. He drew in a deeper breath, letting it sit full in his lungs for a moment before it shuddered out of him. Everything that he'd carried with him just seemed to fall from him that night, and hands had gently held and kept him anchored.

Kept him warm and moving forward, as sure as anything. Solid and strong, as everything about the man seemed to be. Yet he was as gentle and warm as a summer breeze, never pressing too hard; never pushing too far. He always extended his hand for the huntsman, simply waiting, simply smiling for him. Wanting nothing in return save for his happiness.

And little by little, things had changed. Trust had... gods, trust had formed between them. Actual trust, and not the brittle sham that usual slid between his fingers. For what had started out as a simple exercise of pairing up for missions and cooperating with someone on the field, it had soon fallen to a rhythm of its own making. He'd found someone to honestly open up to. To simply  _ talk to _ . To simply be around and enjoy his company.

To... be  _ with _ .

Red eyes blinked, feeling heat stirring at the back of his throat, and he ducked his gaze to the ground, something in his chest catching. Of course he'd had his flings and partners in the past. Scant encounters with others, but they'd always felt hollow. Meaningless. He'd never gone anywhere with the intention of seeking this sort of thing. Never had anything in his life even remotely _resembling_ this kind of connection to someone, and it... it hurt.

It tore at him.

To know that in such a short amount of time, someone had slipped under his skin like a needle, finding the walls to his heart and chipping, chipping, until something dislodged, falling to the ground with a resounding clatter.

To know that someone had become as important to him as his family. As important as breathing. And to know that trust and connection ran firmly and deeply both ways.

To know... he was as important to someone in the exact same way.

Of all things,  _ that _ was the part that squeezed about his very heart the most. He'd found himself with someone who wanted him. Valued his time. Actually appreciated him as a person, and not as someone with a skillset of questionable merit and a disastrous semblance.

But the ache of that realisation held nothing in the wake of what still remained. Of what his responsibilities were. He knew it was all but his duty to see his family safe from harm, and he would travel to the ends of the earth with them to see it through. He still had... so far to go with them. Quite literally, the other side of the world, in fact.

Not only did that mean leaving, but it meant not knowing what would happen once he did. It meant... gods, he didn't even know what.

All he knew was that he had to leave Atlas, but he wasn't  _ at all  _ prepared to leave Atlas.

Perhaps that's what Taiyang had meant when he said this kind of thing hurts, but it's always the best kind of hurt. Even if the circumstances weren't the same, pain still welled up in his heart for something that felt so, so similar.

He drew in a ragged breath, the tightness in his chest all but aching across his sternum as the very thought burned through his mind. He'd found someone who wanted him. Who could  _ stand _ to be near him. Who wanted so desperately to have him stay, and knew so deeply that he had to leave. It still... gods, it felt almost surreal to him to realise it.

Red eyes fell to the ring upon his finger, and it swam out of focus as he brushed a thumb to it.

Was this...

Was this what coming home felt like?

_You- I... I mean- I love you..._

His breath caught in the back of his throat, and he swallowed almost painfully. He blinked at the ring a little too rapidly, feeling his heart thud in his chest, feeling his thoughts run a mile a minute, and all at once frozen entirely.

It wasn't Atlas at all.

It was...

Was Clover...

... his home?

His vision blurred, and as the first few drops of rain began to break from the clouds onto the back of his hand, he cursed his luck.

It wasn't until he'd taken the shuddering breath in, red eyes dragging to the sky, that he realised it was an utterly clear day. Not a cloud in the sky. He blinked, shaken at the sight of pure blue above him, and a startled hand reached up tentatively, fingertips brushing gently to his cheek and finding stinging tear trails.

The draw of breath traced across his tongue, and the broken smile found his lips as he reached up to rub it all away from his eyes. He hadn't even noticed it. So caught up in his head, as he was, and he felt himself slowly unravelling in the very same place as before.

Must've been something to do with this view, his mind whispered to him, and the huff of a laugh spilled from a thick throat.

He swallowed again, his body almost relishing the simple relief in allowing his emotions spill out. He'd never realised how tightly wound he'd become over the whole situation until he started picking at his thoughts once more. Plucking them gently apart and seeing what spilled upon the ground.

He'd been tying himself in knots again, but at least, this time, these ones were of his own doing, and he knew precisely which thread to pull to have it all spiralling into his hands.

All of it connected to a single source, and it sat snugly about his finger.

Qrow took in a deeper breath, eyes drifting to the ground before him as he let it sigh heavily from him. Hands came together before him from where elbows still rested upon knees, and he pressed both to his face, giving himself a silent moment of darkness in which to linger. Exactly why scratching at his boxes was a poor idea.

He didn't know what lingered beneath the lid some days, and the contents were always a surprise with what else they dragged up for air. Even if sometimes it  _ was  _ a pleasant surprise.

Hands scrubbed themselves away once more, and he let them fall lax. Atlas was fast becoming an unruly place for his emotions.

The smile brushed across his lips again, faint, but sure, and he gave a final sniff, tucking the errant feeling away for now. He reached up, running fingers through his hair and scratching lightly at the back of his head, gaze returning to the horizon as he slowly reclined on the bench once more.

Who'd have thought this city would be the place that got under his skin the most, and  _ not  _ for the reasons he thought it would...

The stray thought brought the quiet laugh to his throat, and he let his arm drop to the back of the bench. Red eyes sought the clouds aimlessly, as he felt himself slowly coming down from the place where he had buried his thoughts. The place where he'd let his emotions get the better of him.

It left him with an ache in his chest, but more than that, it left him feeling... better.

The simple release of something he'd held onto so tightly, and buried so deeply in his chest... He was getting used to the idea that letting it out was always a better course of action than curling his fingers further about it, even if, more often than not, his mind still baulked at the notion.

_You have to give yourself time to adjust. But you never stop learning._

Words spoken to him what felt like an age ago, but the truth of them had struck him, and settled across his shoulders with a gentle hand. He knew better than anyone what it meant to never give up, but to never stop pushing himself was an entirely different thing.

And little by little, things had begun to change.

He reached up, scrubbing fingers across his eyes once more, and the sigh fell from him. The feeling that sat in his chest was like a wound freshly bathed, and he could already feel the sting of skin regrowing. He needed to ground himself before he started straying again, and his hand fell to where he'd stuffed his scroll.

Qrow cleared his throat softly, shaking free from the last of what sat thick about his voice, and he tapped open his contacts. It was about time he checked in on the girls, anyw-

Immediately, his scroll began to chime in his hand, and he stared down at it, brows rising in surprise. The smile curled upon his lips, and he answered it, bringing it to his ear.

“And here I thought you'd forgotten about me this entire time,” he laughed.

A deeper sound of amusement met his words, tapering off smoothly.

“Hardly. Things have just been... a little chaotic as of late,” James replied simply. “Which is why I'm calling. I'm... sorry I never got around to checking in with you earlier, but I'm glad to hear you're feeling better.”

“Oh? A little bird tell you that?”

“If by little bird, you mean the medical clearance report that wound up on my desk this morning, then yes,” came the easy explanation. “It's also part of the reason I'm calling.”

Qrow held his tongue for a beat of time, smirk wry upon his lips.

“Not like you to make a social call these days.”

“Today might be an exception,” the General replied. “Stop by my office after lunch. We have some catching up to do.”

Red eyes blinked a little at the request, and he  _ did _ pull his scroll from his ear, staring almost dumbly back at the man's picture. That seemed... like a sudden change of pace. His brow knit as he placed his ear to it once more.

“Uh... sure,” he told him. “Nothing better to do.”

There was a faint sound of amusement on the other end. “I'm glad to hear it.” And with that, the call ended.

Qrow found himself staring back at his scroll at the end of the rather abrupt conversation. The snort of amusement left him, and he tucked the device away for the time being, pushing himself up from the bench. For everything else in the world, it seems James would never change his manner. Hands slipped back into pockets, and he let his gaze settle across the horizon once more, taking a moment to simply appreciate it.

A distant tundra, spilling wide and barren. Jagged mountain peaks, jutting from the ground as if wrenched from the very crust of Remnant itself. Snow sifted across the world, delicate and biting all at once.

Yet... the sun shone down upon it all, with a brightness that made the very world glow. Clouds hung full and bursting in the sky, edges smeared as if by an artist's brush, and the blue of the sky framing it all with a periwinkle so rich it almost made his eyes hurt.

Atlas vistas were one thing, if not eternally beautiful,  _ regardless  _ of the weather.

It was only a pity he had a reason to turn away from it with a sigh, starting his languid trek back to the Academy. With any luck, his usual attire had been returned to his room by now.

It wouldn't do to meet the General looking as casual as could be, after all.


	22. Lining It Up and Letting It Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with a light **warning!**
> 
> There's a discussion towards the end that deals with the topic of alcoholism, and Qrow's memories of it, so please take that into consideration going forward!

As he crossed the first few steps onto the Academy forecourt, red eyes widened lightly, and he came to a stop. He realised with startling clarity that his earlier plan for the day had gone completely by the wayside, and a hand was already fishing about in his pocket for his scroll.

Qrow tapped through his contacts and pressed it to his ear, starting his trek once more. It rang out for a short moment, and kept ringing. And  _ ringing _ _._ Brows pinched on the sixth ring. Maybe they really  _ had _ fallen into a collective coma...

“... m'ello..?”

The voice was groggy, washed in slumber, and Qrow found the warm smile breaking over him.

“Mornin' to you too, sunshine,” he told the girl. “Sleep well? Or are you still sleeping well?”

“... Uncle Qrow, it's early...” came the soft whine from Ruby.

He didn't miss a beat.

“It's mid-morning, kiddo.”

There was a palpable silence on the other end, and Qrow could just about picture his niece going through the motions of blearily rolling to her feet and opening curtains to stare outside. Sure enough, there was a greater whine, tapering off into a heavy sigh.

Good to know some things never changed, he mused.

“Ugh, we missed breakfast...”

_ That _ had the huntsman pausing in surprise; snuffling in soft laughter, before it broke from him entirely. He reached his free hand up, fingers pressing to his brow as he shook his head lightly.

“ _ How _ can you still be hungry? I thought you guys would've cleaned that place out last night,” he commented simply. There came a soft groan on the other end, and the soft sounds of movement as the girl began her own wandering about her room.

“Well we kinda did...” she murmured. “But only because it was all so good! And Yang told us you recommended one right after we all ordered, so of  _ course _ I was gonna get that one too!”

Qrow waited a beat of time, and sure enough-

“And it was so spicy! Uncle Qrow, you were totally holding out on us!”

He was happy to know the family tradition of adoring anything likely to sear your tongue off was still alive and kicking. It was also reminding him that he should probably pay a visit to the owner of that restaurant again. Not only to indulge in what was still one of the best meals of his life, but to probably apologise for his family a little.

“Hey now, I told you about that place weeks ago; whether or not you went there earlier was completely up to you,” he said in mild defence. “Besides, now you  _ know  _ how good it is, I imagine you'll be spending all your spare lien there.” He reached the elevators, slipping in and tapping the button for his floor. He turned to stare idly out of the impressive glass window as it started up beneath his feet.

“Well, duh,” was all he got, earning the girl a soft laugh. “Kinda hoping we can all go there for dinner tomorrow. Though, oh! How're... you feeling today?”

He blinked a little at the rapid change of topics, eyes caught from the horizon. “Ah... better. A lot better, actually.” He trailed off as he tried not to think about  _ why _ he felt a lot better, and he felt the warmth settle at his collar. Probably... wouldn't do to be thinking about that whilst on a call to his niece. “Took probably the hottest shower of my life, and slept for what felt like half the day,” he told her with a soft laugh. Ruby mirrored the sound gently, and he heard the sounds of activity around her. Movement as others started to rouse, and coffee preparations began.

“Well that's good to hear! No offence, but it  _ really _ looked like you needed it last night,” she commented simply. “And if you were that uncomfortable, you should've said something! You didn't need to sit through all of that if you didn't want to, Uncle Qrow.”

_ That _ made him baulk, and brows pinched lightly. He resisted the urge to snort at the girl, and instead let his hand come to rest on his hip. For all her talk of family and coming together, she really didn't realise what it was she'd just said. Or, she did, and she was simply being a worrying mother hen over the huntsman again. Her priorities  _ were _ always a little skewed in that regard, he thought with a gentle smile.

“Ruby, why  _ wouldn't _ I be there?”

The question was blunt, and it took the girl by soft surprise with the tone behind it.

“It's only what all of you have wanted your entire lives, and you finally got the chance to celebrate it properly,” he pressed on. “Not to mention the food there was  _ worlds _ apart from some stupidly large and impersonal cake.” Qrow let his gaze slip across the clouds, watching them as they sat thick and full in the sky, and he lifted fingers to the glass, feeling the cool touch of the air beyond it.

_They deserved it._

Red eyes narrowed faintly at the words, and he felt something in his chest tighten at the memory. They'd done  _ more _ than simply deserved it, in his eyes. They'd already gone through complete hell and back, all whilst barely out of their teenage years. Qrow might've had his own loss and heavy blows during his youth, but the kids...

They'd survived the worst kind of tragedies already, and been forged in the harshest of fires.

Yet still they pressed on. Knowing that tomorrow was another chance at a brighter future. A better day than before. Another chance at helping those that needed it the most.  _ That _ was all they'd ever really wanted to do in the first place.

They were huntsmen and huntresses of the finest kind, regardless of whatever their license said.

_If we can't celebrate the little victories in our lives, then we lose sight of what really matters._

“Last night... was all about you guys. And I wouldn't have missed it for the world.” The quiet sigh slipped from him once more. “Your dad might not've been there, but I can tell you, he's as proud of everything you've achieved along the way as I am. After... after everything you've all been through... you deserved it.”

Qrow held his gaze to the clouds, warm smile settling across his entire expression.

“I would've sat through it a hundred times, kiddo.”

Silence settled about him like a veil, and he resisted the urge to let the quiet breath slip from him. There was so much more he could've said, but he knew it would've been just words. He was proud of them all; that was all he really  _ needed  _ to say. He was soon acutely aware of how that silence stretched to their conversation, and he blinked a little, lips parted, ready to continue.

“... thank you...”

The breath was faint in his ear, and warmth settled deep in his chest at it, letting his own words die on his tongue as she gathered herself again. He was glad he hadn't  _ completely _ destroyed her ability to speak.

“I... I miss him some days... you know...” Her voice was soft. Meek. And it just about tore his heart in two with the simple words. He was damn near ready to throw his plans aside for the day, just so he could take her into his arms and squeeze the life out of her.

“So I'm glad... heh,  _ really  _ glad,” she added with a huff of amusement, “that you've stuck with us through everything. It feels... it really feels like we've managed to keep a little piece of home with us along the way.”

Home...

That word slipped under his skin as easy as that, and fingers tightened across the surface of the glass. Like an eloquent strike to the back of his neck, and he had to remind himself what breathing was like for a handful of seconds. It wasn't ever a word he'd ever put much stock in, yet here he was, presented with it squarely for the second time in so many hours.

Red eyes couldn't stop themselves, and he found them falling once more to the ring that was now pressed to the glass, his heart twisting sharply behind his ribs.

It only further cemented his thoughts from earlier, and eyes closed tightly, shunting the thoughts away for now. He wouldn't let himself fall under their sway like that. Not over a scroll call at least. He drew the device away from his ear for a moment, taking in a steadying breath and letting it sit deep in his lungs, giving himself a short count of time before raising it back into place once more.

“Yeah... guess I miss the dweeb, too...” he breathed, bringing himself back to the conversation.

The moment between them was shattered in a heartbeat. “Dad is not a dweeb!” the girl bit at the phrase, her feathers firmly rustled.

Qrow could only laugh gently at her, glad for the light shift in topics. She didn't need to know about  _ that _ particular dilemma of his just yet. It was just another box for now, even if the lid was all but laying askew and hardly forgotten.

“I've known him longer than you, kiddo; I have every right to call him that,” he countered simply, skin feeling raw. “Not to mention I have the stories to back it up.” That seemed to take the wind out of her sails a little bit, and he earned a soft grousing for his efforts.

The huntsman smirked despite himself. “What's that? I'm right?”

“Ugh, you're such a butt, Uncle Qrow!”

He couldn't stop the laugh that fell from him, and with a short ding, realised he'd reached his floor. Stepping into the hallway, he couldn't keep the warm smile from his face. It was always interesting to chat to his girls, and both of them always did know the best ways to cheer him up.

Even if they never knew how they did it.

Their family was just good at it, apparently.

“Yeah, and you still love me...” he told her simply. There was a gentle laugh at his words, and sounds of further activity came across the line.

“Well yeah, course I do!” came the bright answer. She paused, voice murmuring to someone in the background with quiet sounds of heated discussion following behind. The huntsman simply waited her out as she came back to him a moment later. “Though hey, we're all gonna head out for breakfast soon. Did you want to join in?”

Qrow tactfully bit down the remark that it should've been called  _ lunch _ _,_ but he knew when to hold his tongue better than most.

“I think I'll survive without eating for another few hours. Besides,” he glanced at his scroll once more, noting just how long his casual walk had taken him, “I might have a day off, but there's still a meeting that I need to stop dodging and get to.”

“Ooh, anything exciting?” she perked immediately.

“Nah, just boring adult stuff.”

“Yech, have fun with that.”

The sound of amusement fell from him. “Oh, I'll try to. Now go on, get. Go fall into another food coma.”

“You bet we will! Enjoy your day, Uncle Qrow!” she told him, ending the call brightly. For the second time that day, he found himself with an abrupt conversation in his hands, and he slid the scroll away from his ear. His steps fell to a stop, and he found himself just staring down at the device for a moment, smile warm upon his lips.

He really wouldn't change anything in their family for anything.

The huntsman tucked away his scroll, continuing his journey deeper into the heart of the Academy where the dorms lay. He was almost thankful his assigned room was nowhere near the teams, because he knew without a doubt that he would easily throw out all his plans for the morning to simply be with his nieces after  _ that _ particular call.

It was almost a pity he had other plans, and red eyes rolled skywards, wry amusement tugging at him. Of all the times James wanted to be social...

He walked the long hallway to his room, glad that he hadn't been evicted during his spotty stay, and slipped inside. It was with a genuine sigh of relief that eyes first fell to Harbinger, still sitting safe and sound, right where he left it, then secondly to the simple package left upon the kitchenette counter.

The huntsman glanced at it as he walked past, finding freshly laundered clothes waiting for him, and the easy smile fell from him. Thank the gods, something respectable to wear, his mind groused. Fingers sought Harbinger, putting aside thoughts of his usual attire for the moment, and he picked the weapon up, no small amount of satisfaction coursing through him as he felt its familiar weight in his hand once again.

Safe and sound. Back where it belonged, and the breath of relief slipped from him. Fingers gave a parting squeeze to the handle as he slipped away, already tugging the hoodie from his skin.

He'd had enough of being their walking billboard for one day.

With a practised ease, familiar layers were pulled into his hands, and he began to tug them back onto his body. Hands smoothed down fabric as he tucked everything back into its proper place, feeling more like himself than he had in the last day or so. Even if it  _ had _ only been for a day, being in his own clothes felt better than something borrowed.

Far less restricting than his fancy clothes from the night before, too, and he slid Harbinger back into its rightful place, its weight a comfort at his back once more.

Now all he had to do was survive a meeting with an old friend.

***

If there was one thing that never failed to impress, it was always the sense of grandeur that an Academy could cram into every nook and cranny.

Haven still held a regal air of days gone by. A tale of the arts and the kingdom's history with the finer things in life; it had always been the very picture of quality, rather than the quantity of the others. Ornate in every sense of the word, and Qrow could appreciate the beauty of it for what it was, even if he still preferred the lofty heights of the others.

Beacon would always be in his heart, for more reasons than those upon the surface. From where it sat perched atop the cliffs of Vale, it was the perfect place to soar above both waves and mountains. Ozpin always  _ did _ have a sense of splendour when it came to choosing the locations of each of them, but to a bird chasing freedom, it offered the best there ever was.

Atlas was no exception, as had always been the case. True to the standards of its people, the Academy always fell  _ well  _ within the margins of bigger is better. Perhaps the tallest of them all, even without its vaulted position in the clouds, it might have become Qrow's favourite in terms of height.

It was just a pity it sat in the coldest place upon the entire planet, taking nearly  _ all _ the fun out of flying about the spire. Well, his mind cheerily reminded him, the cold  _ and  _ the very obvious anti-air defences that dotted the taller structures of Atlas. Those  _ certainly _ seemed to take some of the fun out of a simple joy flight.

Still, in terms of internal magnificence, that same grand standard fell smartly into tune; gleaming polished floors of the finest stonework, ceilings that stretched into the heavens, windows that allowed light to gleam and glint upon every surface. Whilst it may not have been a masterpiece of artwork, Atlas Academy was still an architectural wonder, and Qrow could  _ more  _ than appreciate the incredible artistry that went into its creation. Red eyes idly followed the line of intricately carved marble statues he passed into the final hallway. Huntsmen of eons past. Something to subtly remind those wishing for an audience with the General, that you were here to be judged on all sides.

The snort left him, and he tucked hands firmly into his pockets, gaze trailing to the glass dome of the ceiling as he passed briefly under the sunlight.

If James was ever going to judge him, it would be an interesting account of his life, that's for sure.

Reaching the large doors to the man's office, he barely paused, forgoing a courteous knock as he simply pushed his way in. Part of him almost wished he had, when all eyes in the room turned to the newcomer, and Qrow briefly met each of them in turn.

If he had any reservations about intruding, they were utterly snuffed by his expression, and he offered a brief wave and a smile to James and the three operatives that stood with him.

“I'll just be doing some light reading until you're done,” came the call to the far end of the room, and he was wandering to the closest bookshelf, eyes already skimming the contents.

Winter let the sigh slip from her nose at the sight of the huntsman, brows pinching faintly; he could've at  _ least  _ knocked. Harriet and Marrow merely turned their attentions back to the meeting. Gratefully, Qrow had kept himself well out of earshot as he thumbed through a book of astronomy, waiting for their little get together to be over.

“I'll have the two of you reconvene with the personnel on the ground, at both the southern edge, and the eastern wall,” Winter pointed to the map display upon Ironwood's desk. “Harriet, you're to meet with squads three and eight, and bring them up to speed. Marrow, squad five is yours.”

“With all due respect – babysitting, ma'am?” the young woman questioned.

“Not quite. Communications within Mantle are still spotty, so you're to relay orders, then move onto squad nine alongside Marrow at the northern breach.”

Harriet resisted the urge to snort. So she was still babysitting, just this time it was her partner.

“Clover will be returning from the western breach once squads two and six relieve him. We're expecting Elm and Vine to be done with their respective patrol and escort missions within the next three hours.” She swiped a few directions on the map, sending the locations for their mission to their scrolls. “As this is only a relay mission, I'll expect the two of you to complete it within the specified time frame.”

“Good luck out there,” Ironwood told them, standing as their meeting ended.

The two operatives snapped them a sharp salute, both of them filing towards the vast doors. Once out of earshot of her superiors, Harriet gave a faint snort directed at the lone huntsman.

“They didn't teach you manners back in Beacon?”

Qrow didn't even look up from his book, lips curling faintly in amusement. “Taught me how to pick my battles, pipsqueak.” He closed it with a light snap, meeting her eyes. “Also taught me respect for my elders. Might want to brush up on that.”

He slid the book back into place without looking, a passing wink ruffling her even further as he brushed past the two of them. Harriet bristled at the simple dismissal, yet she knew better than to lash out with both Winter and the General still in the room. How  _ dare _ the old bastard-

She growled under her breath, all but storming from the room and leaving Marrow firmly behind.

The Faunus couldn't have followed her if he tried, as his eyes were firmly fixed on the languid gait of the huntsman. If he had the ears to match his traits, they would've been as perked in sharp interest as his tail, and he blinked widened eyes at him.

It couldn't... have been...

He snapped sharply out of his stupor. “Ah, Qrow! Sir!” he called to the man, and red eyes glanced back to him, as the Faunus jogged lightly up to him, heart in his throat. “Sorry about her, she's- We've just all been working pretty hard lately, so she's... grouchy,” he rushed out in apology.

Qrow gave him a simple smile and a one-shouldered shrug. “No skin off my nose, but... thanks all the same.” He made to turn away again.

“It's also been really great,” Marrow continued quickly, snagging his attention once more, “getting to train with the teams. They've been incredible to watch and work alongside. They're a... a credit to you. Sir.”

He knew he was all but babbling at the poor huntsman, but he hadn't exactly planned out _anything_ he had wanted to say. He was working on pure adrenaline when he'd called out to him, but he needed to know for sure. Had to stop him from escaping if only for a few more seconds.

His breath had all but caught in his chest as he waited for the huntsman's reply, letting his stampeding thoughts crash and tumble down to a ruinous conclusion.

He did it. He'd  _ found  _ it.

It wasn't any of the teams; that much he was certain of, even if that same mystery scent lingered upon them in his memory.

It was none of the operatives, whose scent he knew entirely by heart. Nor was it that of Winter, or the General.

It wasn't Mantle, nor Atlas herself, a veritable melting pot of scents and sources.

But with the hammering of his heart behind his ribs, he knew he'd found it. The source of his mystery. This persistent whatever-it-was that had clung to Clover like a sheen upon him, and had hounded him for the better part of the morning.

It was...

It was  _ Qrow Branwen . _

He forced himself not to swallow through a tight throat, keeping his hands loose at his sides and willing himself not to betray anything on his expression. It must've been working, as the huntsman could only offer him that same warm smile once more, a proud note running through red eyes.

“That so? Well, thanks again,” he offered simply. “They're a good bunch of kids, and I'm just happy they let me tag along for the ride.”

He reached up without thought, rapping the back of his hand to the Faunus' shoulder.

“Though... might wanna go catch your partner before she breaks something,” he added softly, turning away from him and continuing towards the rear of the office.

Marrow resisted the urge to bite the inside of his cheek or give in to the whine that sat ripe upon his tongue; instead watching him walk away before turning on his heel. He'd reached the doors before he let his breath out in a shaky rush, closing them behind him and leaning heavily against dark wood. Eyes stared unseeing at the ground as a hand snaked up to press to his mouth.

His heart was all but thudding it's way out of his chest as he stood there, rapidly trying to process the reasons and ramifications of it all. How would... He knew they were partners on the field, but even then, how would it-

What in the hell... was _Qrow Branwen's_ scent doing all over Clover?

He drew in a deeper breath, holding it for a moment as he forced his stampeding mind to settle back down a little.

Were...

Were they...?

His eyes clenched shut, jaw tightening. He had to be rational about this kind of thing and  _ not _ jump to conclusions, even as he was stuffing the idea of  _ why _ rapidly back into it's box.

No. No he couldn't do that.

“ _ Marrow! _ Ass in gear!”

The sharp snap from his partner at the end of the hall made him startle back to the present, and he jolted awake once more. It was like someone had thrown cold water over him, and he jogged after her. Right. Their mission. They had a mission to do.

Speculation of any sort could wait until later.

For now, it would stay firmly buried.

It had to.

As Marrow darted hastily away, Winter was experiencing a conundrum of her own, and it had to do with the same singular huntsman as he languidly approached the two of them. She resisted the urge to sigh at him again – it would be moot to spend the breath on him in that manner – and instead swiped at her scroll, pointedly ignoring his eyes.

“You're earlier than expected,” she told him simply, no hint of venom in her tone.

Qrow only offered her a vague shrug as he stopped at the desk, reaching up with a hand to rub at the side of his neck.

“I happen to think I'm right on time. Your meeting  _ did _ just end, after all.”

Winter  _ also  _ knew it would be pointless to try and scold him on proper military protocol. Or basic manners. She collected her things together with a faint, humourless smile, tucking a sheaf of papers under her arm and turned her attention to Ironwood, snapping him a sharp salute.

“General, if there's nothing further to discuss, I'll be on my way,” she told the man. Ironwood offered her the same salute, dismissing her.

“Not at all, thank you.”

The woman stepped past the vast desk, eyes lingering briefly on the huntsman. “Qrow,” spoken softly as she inclined her head briefly to him. He offered her the same courtesy, fingers ducking up in a casual salute as she headed towards the far end of the office. Ice blue eyes narrowed faintly as she walked; there was a thread at the back of her mind, and her thoughts thumbed lightly at it. It had begun without warning in the early hours of the day – a photograph nearly missed, had it not been for the sight of Weiss catching her attention.

And Clover sitting alongside her, Qrow at his side.

Fingers pushed the door open, closing it softly behind her, heels clicking on cold stone as she entered the depths of the Academy once more.

It was true that the operative was Qrow's partner whilst on missions, and it gave him reason to socialise with the huntsman. But did that really extend to her sister and the rest of the teams? The offer to join them all for their celebration dinner would have been a scheduling nightmare to reorganise, and she'd had to decline almost immediately. Clover, however...

He'd managed to find a seat at their table by casually being partnered up with a member of their team.

The murmur of sound slipped from her as she recalled that she'd already been challenged over this exact scenario, the operative taking a  _ very _ hard stance against her.

_If we're to become better partners in the field, my time is best spent with Qrow._

Winter waited at the elevator, thoughts ticking over. She could certainly see the merit in his claim, as Clover's style had meshed well with the huntsman, regardless of Qrow's continuous stance on the situation. And as Captain he was responsible for helping oversee the progress on the teams as they trained together with the rest of the Ace Ops. Perhaps it  _ would  _ be better to leave it be until she had further evidence.

Blue eyes narrowed, unseeing, at the metal before her. She felt fingers curling at her sides, wanting to follow this little thread, wanting to see what unravelled the further she pulled.

It was utterly going to stay in her mind until she'd discovered the source of it.

Far from any such notions of burying his thoughts or following subtle clues, Qrow let the faint breath slip from him. He hadn't missed all the stuffy military protocol, and here he was, once again, willingly throwing himself back into the face of it.

It was no wonder he'd avoided Atlas for so long in the past.

It  _ was  _ a wonder, however, that this amicable friendship with James had remained as steady as it had over the years. Well. Perhaps 'friendship' was a wavering sort of word for how well they got along. It wasn't at all out of the ordinary for Qrow to call the man out on his actions, nor that of his profession; his personal dislike of the Atlas Military was an open secret.

He resisted the urge to let the sigh fall from him once more, and instead leant up against the large desk, arms folding across his chest.

“I think she's starting to like me,” came the offhand comment.

Blue eyes glanced back at him in a beat of mild surprise, before the man allowed the smile to cross his expression.

“I don't think it would take much for her to  _ dislike  _ you any further, Qrow.”

The huntsman shrugged nonchalantly. “Touche.”

James folded his hands neatly at the small of his back as he walked to the front of his desk. “Walk with me,” came the simple request, and the two of them set off together, leaving the vast emptiness of his office behind. It was a comfortable sort of silence, and red eyes were content to trace along the seams of the architecture above them as they went.

For all his intent on wanting to talk, James was staying mighty quiet until they'd reached wherever it was he was leading them.

Not that it bothered him in the slightest; they were two of a kind, after all. Both men with secrets buried so deep that it would take years of digging for things to see the light of day. His eyes narrowed faintly, and he drew his gaze to the path they walked.

Well, some secrets, his mind gently whispered. Clover was certainly helping him realise that not all things had to be held so tightly to his chest. It was something he was quietly reminded of time and time again, the longer he spent around the man. Having someone to actually talk to and relate to, and – more to the point – someone his own age.

His family were wonderful with everything they offered him in terms of support, but there were some topics that seemed far too heavy to discuss with someone barely out of their teenage years.

Hands snuck into his pockets as they reached the elevator, and James silently let them in; brushing the back of his hand to the panel. A soft ding, and they travelled upwards once more. Wherever they were headed, it seemed privacy was key, and his thoughts continued on their original track.

Red eyes stared absently at the slowly climbing number. Ever since the fall of Beacon, James had... well.

The man had his military, and his Academy. He had Winter, and he had the Ace Operatives. He was as closed off as any other businessman in Atlas seemed to be, so Qrow wasn't at all surprised in hindsight that his own appearance in Atlas would be a welcome sight for the man.

_I meant it when I said it was good to see you again._

James might have been surrounded by people, but in terms of their own little group, it had all but fallen away in his hands to nothingness. To the General's knowledge, Ozpin was completely gone, Glynda was still back in Vale, caught without a proper communication channel to either of them. Leonardo had been killed in action what felt a lifetime ago, and Theodore only kept in touch when he routinely needed to, with, thankfully, no surprises yet.

Qrow was the closest thing he had to a true ally. And he'd fallen into his kingdom at perhaps the best possible time for the man. James was scared. Tired. Any fool with eyes could see that. And the only ones that could truly understand why were those that had already entered his thoughts.

There was a heavy sigh next to him, and Qrow brought himself back to the present, glancing over at the man. Clearly the man was as caught in his own head as the huntsman was. James had taken to following the numbers on the elevator, much like him, and at the quiet ding, they both filed out; greeted sharply by a cold blast of arctic air despite the sunlight that shone down upon them.

Qrow had to stifle the immediate shiver as his hair was blown lightly about. Just when he was starting to feel warm again, dammit.

The General walked unbidden across the expanse of the roof, coming to the railing and allowing him a magnificent view of the city beneath him. From where he joined him, Qrow could just about see the edge of Mantle from their position. Clouds dotted the horizon, edges smudging into trailing wisps far above the Academy; the high altitude winds stretching them far into bright blue, like delicately spun cotton candy. The huntsman folded his arms loosely, letting them rest atop the railing as he took in the sights of Atlas from on high.

If this was where James came to clear his head, he could certainly see why. It was a perfectly private jewel, perched high above the crown of Atlas itelf.

“So.”

Red eyes glanced at the man.

“How're you settling in to Atlas?”

And immediately ducked away.

More than you'd like to know, his mind whispered sharply as the wind tugged gently at them both.

_ That _ was a conversation he wasn't at all ready to have with the man just yet, not when he  _ really  _ didn't know how he would react to the news.

“Uh... fine,” he told him simply. “Been strange getting back into a mission routine that doesn't involve subterfuge, that's for sure.”

James could only offer him a gentle smile at the admission, and he looked for all the world rather glad to hear it.

“You certainly seem happier, for what it's worth.”

The almost offhand comment was enough to bring Qrow to a stop, and he felt something in his chest skitter at it. It must've  _ really _ been obvious if even James could see how well he was doing. He forced the bead of visceral concern out of his throat, swallowing lightly, and stared at the ground, so very far below them.

“Guess we all just... needed to stop and relax somewhere more than we thought,” he answered simply. “Been a while since any of us got that chance.”

James met his words with a gentle laugh, hands coming to rest on the railing. Blue eyes traced skywards, and for a heartbeat of time, the man seemed utterly lost to the endless sight above him. It only further cemented Qrow's thoughts from earlier, and he let his own gaze linger on the city below them.

“You also... don't carry it anymore.”

The small snatch of words seemed almost heavy in the air, and red eyes darted back to those waiting blue eyes, surprise evident in their depths. He didn't...

Qrow felt the immediate note of tension bunch across his shoulders, and he dropped his gaze to the forecourt, so drastically far from where they both stood. He couldn't help the sudden knot in his stomach, and whilst he knew it was a topic that was bound to come up sooner or later... part of him always desperately wished it would always be later.

He knew intimately what James was referring to, and he couldn't stop the rush of memories in his mind if he tried. His fingers still knew the feel of the leather emblem beneath them. The cool of brushed metal. Knew where the worn scuff was near the bottom from dropping it. The dent alongside it where he'd once stumbled into a door.

The burn down his throat.

… the blessed haze that followed.

The ever-present  _ wretched  _ shame that dragged him back to his feet, gasping for air like a drowning man at sea, forcing him to face the day again and again and  _ again . _

“I think it's the longest you've ever been without it.”

Qrow knew those blue eyes were watching him with careful scrutiny, and he felt his brows pinch lightly, the almost wistful smile crossing his expression.

“Been a while, that's for sure...” The murmur slipped from him, and a handful of time later, the softly amused sound fell from his throat. It still felt strange, because no matter how tightly he once clung to the flask, no matter how close it had always stayed to him... he still couldn't bring himself to throw it away.

It still sat nestled, hardly forgotten, buried deep in his assigned room at the back of a cupboard.

The ache settled behind his ribs, and he knew there was no easy way of brushing the turn of the conversation away. Not without sounding entirely like a deep-sea clam about it, or entirely rude, considering James was the one who brought it up.

Red eyes brushed along the horizon, taking in the sight of sunlight sparkling across snow, of distant mountain ranges. If he concentrated, he could see the smudged shape of Amity Colosseum hiding within the clouds. A place of endings and beginnings. The irony was almost amusing to him, given their chosen topic.

“Realised a while ago that out of everything I have left in this world... family's one of 'em...”

The sigh followed his words, and he felt that ache spread through his chest, settling in his stomach, curling about his throat. It felt... strange to be talking about it. It felt even stranger that he  _ was _ talking about it, and not turning away from the conversation. He still desperately wished he could escape somehow, but it wasn't as if he didn't know what he signed up for when it came to a conversation with James.

The man had an eye for detail, and never saw anything smaller than the bigger picture.

“And... if I'm gonna be there for my family, then... well... I'd like for them to look back on our time together with happier memories. Not... not of me like...” His words died on his tongue, and he felt his brow pinch. He didn't need to explain himself to James, not when they both knew what kind of state he'd often found himself in. Regardless of whether he remembered it or not.

“Besides, with everything going on... well it... kinda... felt like the right time,” he said simply, brushing darker memories aside. The warm smile found him, and he raised a hand to his chest, brushing lightly across his sternum. “And I... I've got a good reason to stick with it, you know?”

More than a good reason, his mind whispered gently, causing fingers to curl where they sat upon fabric.

James, bless his soul, had remained silent through his halting words as the huntsman sorted himself out. He knew it had been a long time coming, and he was certainly glad his friend had made a choice for the better. And if it was the primary cause for his newfound happiness, then he could do nothing but support him in his endeavour.

He reached up, settling a hand gently between his shoulders, and bringing that red gaze back to him. He knew the huntsman was leagues ahead of where he once stood – the tattered, almost cobbled-together shade of a man that saw nothing but flaws and faults in the world around him – and it could do nothing but bring the smile to his own face.

“I'm glad...” he told him softly. “It's something you've deserved for quite some time now.”

It was almost as if the words came as a quiet surprise for the huntsman, as eyes widened faintly, blinking back at him. Qrow felt the warmth behind his sternum spread, as it settled further into his bones, and he turned away from that knowing blue gaze, following the lines of the horizon once more.

He didn't even know what to say to that, and he was  _ still _ reeling over much the same praise heaped upon him from the night before.

To be deserving – to  _ feel  _ deserving – of such a thing, still felt... strange. But he was getting there. Piece by little piece, he was finding the slivers of himself that had fallen between the cracks and stubbornly refused to budge free.

And once again, he found stark amusement in the fact that of all the places in the world, it was in Atlas.

“Thanks...” he breathed, that strange bubble of contentment sitting in his stomach.

James let his hand fall away. “You're more than welcome,” he replied gently. “When things change for the better, it's always good to recognise them. And you're no exception, Qrow. If there's anything I can do to help – anything at all – please, don't hesitate to ask.”

The huntsman felt the warmth settle at the back of his throat, and it felt strangely... good. Like a weight had been gently plucked from his shoulders. A lightness settled upon him as he found himself realising that perhaps... just maybe... speaking with people about the topic wasn't the terrible thing he'd always envisioned.

Well...

It...  _ was _ _,_ but at the same time, he felt better for letting his halting words out. To allow his friend to hear some of his reasoning and scattered thoughts. To  _ hear _ someone extending that offer to him, regardless of what he'd always been. How he'd always looked.

It was simply another mark on his otherwise endless list of things he desperately wanted to change.

And he was downright proud of himself for sticking with it.

_That kind of strength is something that every single one of us wish we had._

Qrow could do nothing but smile at the gently remembered words of his niece, even if he still found a small, insignificant part of himself wanting to fight the claim. It brought the faint smile to his lips, and he knew he was somewhat falling down the rabbit hole of warmth that had settled upon his thoughts. Right. Yes. James brought him up here to catch up, and here he was secluding himself all over again.

He glanced over at the man, who had fallen into his own comfortable silence as he stood with him, blue eyes sweeping across the city below as the faint furrow settled upon a tired brow. James felt the sigh on his tongue, and he turned his eyes skywards as hands sought the railing once more, losing himself a little to the thoughts stirring to the forefront of his mind.

“Before you all arrived, things had been... tense, to say the least.”

His voice was quiet, almost lost to the wind about them. Red eyes followed the man as he began to sort out his thoughts, simply waiting him out.

“I was beginning to wonder if there would ever be any positive change in this war.”

Fingers curled about the railing. Blue eyes fell to the horizon.

“Every time we pushed against her, she was always pushing back, no matter how hard we tried. Her agents seem to be... everywhere. And with Beacon gone, it was just another blow in a series of... well... everything,” he finished with a humourless chuckle.

Qrow knew the man was simply speaking from the heart. Letting his worries gently fall from him with perhaps the only person in the world he felt comfortable enough to do so. Red eyes narrowed faintly at the thought. Whatever he and James were, right now, he was the man's only friend.

His only anchor in a storm of his own making.

“So... it was more than a pleasant surprise when you all arrived. It... helped stabilise things.”

Blue eyes drew up to meet his own. “More than I think you realise.”

The huntsman felt that same strange stirring in his chest that he had earlier, all those weeks ago. James had never been good at expressing himself beyond what was necessary, so when he found himself suddenly pulled into a firm embrace with him, it had been... surprising to say the least.

He certainly hadn't begrudged him of it though. Not when he sorely needed it.

The smile brushed light across his lips. “What are friends for?”

A hand reached up, grasping his shoulder gently, fingers giving a faint squeeze in quiet thanks. No, James never was good at expressing himself, but neither was he. Not entirely. It was something they were both working on, in their own ways.

But where Qrow had steadily been allowing people to slip into his life as he unwound the mess of knots about his heart, James appeared to be letting his fingers find the brick wall he'd placed firmly in front of himself. He knew it was of his own making, as he scratched at the mortar, and he also knew there was no way to remove it until he'd taken to it with a sledgehammer.

He just didn't want to see the man bury himself when it fell.


	23. Remnants Past and Reminders Present

The General stood silently as the two of them cast their eyes across the vast horizon of the kingdom. The mountains stretched far beyond their eyes, even from their lofty vantage point in the sky, and to Qrow, it only looked like an invitation waiting to settle into his hands.

He still wanted to take to the clouds above them, and he was veritably counting down the hours until he could slip away and do so again. Even if it was probably going to hurt like hell after so little of a break.

“How was he?”

Red eyes stared back at the man and his sudden question, not quite following.

“Oz... before he left,” James explained softly.

It made him hesitate for a moment, as he gathered his own thoughts on the matter, and he followed the man's gaze out to the mountains far beyond their reach. The gentle smile crossed his expression, despite the bitter words that rang out in his mind, wreathed in anger. Despite the way he still remembered the rage that shook through his form, hands trembling as he stood in the snow.

He still remembered how his fingers ached in the cold for hours after he'd punched him hard enough to crack bone.

“Same old Oz...”

It fell from him in a breath, and it almost startled him how much the amicable words stung his tongue. It tasted bitter and vile, and a part of him almost desperately wanted to spit his name into the ground in response. His brows pinched faintly, unable to stop himself, and the quiet sigh slipped out, stretching out a little as his chin settled atop his folded arms.

Just like before, he always knew their conversation would turn to certain topics. But whereas their earlier discussion had been something shared, this was...

There was a canyon of emotion between the two of them, and it was as if only Qrow could see the bridge.

“Secrets and subterfuge... but... at least he pointed us all in the right direction before he vanished,” came the soft words. For the better, he wanted to add, but he held his tongue. Instead he let the quiet sound of amusement fall from him, as he turned his thoughts to a more genuine emotion. “Glad... heh,  _ real  _ glad he got to spend some time with Oscar, though. Poor kid really got thrown in the deep end with that one.”

James sighed at the words, a smile of his own playing upon his expression. “Finding Oscar so soon after Beacon was a blessing. Though I'm more glad that you managed to keep him safe all this time.” The man gave him a pointed look, to which Qrow could only laugh softly.

“Wish I could take the credit for it, but the kid's a fighter, through and through. Hell of a fast learner, too.” He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of sunshine on skin. “Bet he'll even give my kids a run for their money once he becomes a fully fledged huntsman.”

Silence lingered about them, the only sounds that drifted to their senses were those of the distant city beneath them as the wind snatched everything else. He still felt his heart hurt for Oscar; that much had never changed. When your fate was stolen from you, what else could he feel for him?

He still wished he could do something, anything, to help him in his plight.

Fingers tightened faintly upon the railing, unseen.

“You think it will take Oz that long to come back?”

The words, soft and cautious, almost startled him with the fury it rattled from his chest. He had  _ no _ right to ask such a thing, and yet-

No, he had  _ every  _ right.

He didn't  _ know _ what Qrow did, and he almost bit out to the man that he wished he  _ wouldn't  _ come back. He took in a deeper breath, standing upright once more, eyes trailing to the city below them. James could see the question had brought a soft ache to those red eyes, but it was a far cry from what he knew as truth.

If Qrow had any sort of say in the matter, it would be for that bastard to stay buried wherever he'd fallen and for Oscar to remain firmly in his stead. No matter what it might have cost them in the future. James was right – finding him was a blessing, and Qrow wanted little else than to keep him safe for as long as he could.

His heart only hurt for Oscar.

James could only feel the emptiness in his own where his friend once stood.

He parted his lips for a reply, but finding only sand upon his tongue. In his hesitation, he could only sigh heavily to cover his tracks, and he gestured lightly to the space before him.

“I think the only one who can tell us that is Oz himself,” he answered finally, not meeting those sharp eyes. “And all we can do in the meantime is help Oscar achieve his full potential, no matter how long either of those take.”

He hadn't meant to sound as terse as he did, but the edge had crept into his words before he could stop himself. He didn't want to think about the bastard anymore than he already had, but he knew better than most that in his line of work, there was always  _ something _ distasteful to mull over.

Always some dark cloud to cover his thoughts.

“You're right...”

James had allowed the gentle smile to cross his expression, and some of the tension had fallen from his stance. The huntsman hadn't meant to let his words sour across his tongue, but at the very least, he was glad to see they'd gotten the man to relax about the subject a little.

“It's what Oz would want.”

Qrow drew his gaze to the sky, and the wisp of clouds streaking so high above them. Hands fell to his hips as he tried not to let the bitter taste of those words settle too deeply into his bones. He knew he couldn't fault James in his thinking, purely because the man  _ didn't know _ what he did.

If he were the same person he was before Jinn had told them the truth, he'd... be wanting the same thing, probably. When they first met, Ozpin had given him the direction he needed so sorely in his life, and he'd soon decided to follow the man willingly into the proverbial lion's den.

If only his trust hadn't run so blind and so deep.

If only...

_You work with Ozpin and James long enough, you learn to start looking harder and asking yourself a few questions._

Were he in anyone else's company, he would've laughed bitterly at himself. He hadn't asked his questions, he hadn't looked any harder. What did he know about trust, truly? He was just a kid at the time. He only knew of the good that it could bring, and the shared warmth it wrought, in a team that had become closer than family.

At that point in his life, he still had yet to sample its bitter aftertaste.

The truth had a funny way of tilting his perspective. He just hoped James would realise it for the better, too, when he finally learned the truth of their situation.

No more secrets. No more subterfuge.

He was getting sick of the lies that slipped from him so easily.

“But... that's enough lamenting the current situation.”

Qrow felt his resolve nearly tremble through him, and he drew his gaze back to the man, expression carefully guarded. One that he hoped James would see as something almost wistful for their lost comrade.

“Oz will come back when the time's right,” the General finished, offering him a hopeful smile. “In... other news... I was saddened to hear about Leonardo's passing.”

The sudden jump in topics felt less like a train switching tracks and more like it had derailed  _ entirely,  _ and Qrow could only stare back at him hands lowering from his hips. What had... prompted...

James could only laugh softly at the blatant confusion on the huntsman's face. “Your letter finally arrived a week ago.”

The words were enough to wring a startle through Qrow so deep, he was surprised the wind hadn't knocked him over. He blinked at him, and his mind was almost scrambling to recall the contents of it. It felt like a lifetime ago, and he'd almost forgotten about it entirely since arriving it Atlas. He reached up to rub his neck lightly.

“Look, I know you're only on the Atlas Council, but you think you could do something about the Solitas Postal Service, too?” he asked with a quiet laugh.

James laughed with him, and he folded his arms across his chest. “I'll see what I can arrange. In the meantime, I did some digging of my own, and managed to ascertain a few truths from what you mentioned.” He fixed his gaze firmly upon the huntsman, brow furrowing lightly. “It goes without saying that the White Fang weren't the  _ only _ faction there that night.”

At the words, Qrow nodded, turning his gaze to the city below them. “Salem's agent's were waiting for us. We... fought, but in the end we managed to steal the Lamp back from them and drive them away.”

He placed a hand upon the railing.

“They're the reason... Leo lost his life...”

Red eyes narrowed faintly, and he could still vividly recall how he'd wandered off from their group after everything was said and done. After the dust had settled on their battle in Haven. He'd had every intention of finding the headmaster after he'd run for his very life; wanted to talk some sense into him. Wanted to at least extend the olive branch to him after everything that went down.

Fingers tightened about the railing.

He didn't think he'd ever be able to get the gruesome image of what he found out of his mind.

The General gave a quiet noise of thought. “I thought as much... Still... As headmasters in charge of safeguarding the relics, we all knew what we signed up for,” he turned his eyes to the city, “and neither he nor his service will be forgotten.”

It was spoken so softly, and Qrow almost missed the words as they were snatched up by the wind. It was enough for him to release the quiet sigh from his chest, the ache settling behind his ribs. Some part of him was still glad that Leonardo's memory wouldn't simply be brushed aside like dirt under a rug.

Regardless of where his alliances lay in the end, he was still a good man, and someone he'd once called a friend in this war.

And James' apparent lack of reaction in regards to his death meant that he  _ didn't  _ know about his ties to Salem.

Yet another secret to hold onto, he thought almost bitterly.

Still though... the words themselves...

His brow pinched lightly, and he drew his hand away from the railing, running fingers through his hair to settle at the back of his neck. He was sure James didn't intend for them to sound as dismissive as they did, but it was still James, and he was still expressing his thoughts on the bigger picture. The faint smile came to his expression, despite his musings, and met those blue eyes.

“Thanks, James,” he told him softly.

A hand fell to his shoulder, a steady weight, just like the man himself.

Even if Qrow wasn't sure where he still stood with the man, with the ocean of secrets that lay between them. Even if he had no idea what tomorrow would bring them all. Even if it were all to fall between his fingers like sand once more.

James was a man that would never waver.

“What are friends for?”

The smile broke across the huntsman's expression, and the soft laugh fell from him unbidden at the return of his own words; almost catching the General by surprise with its light tone. His friend really had changed for the better, it seemed, as he hadn't heard that kind of gentle sound from him in many a year.

It was something he'd heard only sparingly, and was certainly a sound he could never fake. No matter how well he tried. Whatever had happened in the years since Beacon's fall, he was glad to see such a single, positive change in the world.

It was... refreshing to see.

His hand fell away. “Come,” he said simply. “Have coffee with me, and we can discuss you  _ officially  _ returning to missions.”

Qrow baulked a little at the simple way the statement had caught him off-guard, shoulders bunching at the teasing tone. He reached up with one hand, rubbing the side of his neck in mild embarrassment and didn't meet that amused gaze as he fell into step with the man. At the very least, they were heading inside where it was warmer, which would help explain the brush of colour along his cheeks. Though he  _ was _ going to have to come up here for the view again, now that he knew about it.

“If this is about yesterday, I can assure you, all I did was sleep in the back of a truck,” came the simple admission.

James could only chuckle softly at him, stepping past him into the elevator. “I'm sure you did.” He tapped the back of his hand to the panel, letting the doors enclose them in silence once more. “But if you don't mind me asking, there's something you might be interested in. A mission better suited to your... unique talents, considering speed is of the essence.”

The huntsman couldn't help but be curious, and he folded his arms across his chest, red eyes following the man's rather amused expression for a moment.

“Alright, I'll bite.”

***

The heavy snowfall, thank the gods, had stopped for almost a full day, and in its place, was left a glittering wonderland. Trees glistened in the sunlight, shimmering from deep within the valley. Delicate icicles trickled from both branch and building, catching glints of the afternoon light. Gentle mounds of snow gathered on the ground for both children and adults alike to enjoy, and it wasn't uncommon to hear the bright laughter echoing through the streets.

Regardless, it still meant that clean-up was progressing at the pace of a snail, and procuring enough equipment to aid the entire city was like pulling teeth.  _ Despite _ the military chipping in and lending a hand.

Extra bodies could only help in so many ways when something larger was needed.

From where the transport ship streaked low to the ground, just outside of Mantle's wall, snow was blustered skywards and danced upwards in a haze. The Manta peeled towards its destination, landing in an easy turn and settling into the tufts of powder.

Marrow glanced down at his scroll, concern gnawing at his thoughts the same way he worried the inside of his cheek between teeth. Their ride back to Atlas had finally appeared, but the operative was still looking at his team's statistics. Aside from Vine, all the Ace Ops were still within the city limits.

His brow pinched lightly. He'd finished his mission with Harriet and they were due to return to Atlas, but... he was fast running out of opportunities to speak with Clover. The man would likely be caught up with debriefings and further mission planning for the rest of the afternoon, which  _ definitely  _ meant he'd be with both Winter and the General.

Not the best time to speak with him quietly.

Certainly not about the topic he had in mind.

He swallowed lightly as the whine from the Manta's engines dipped, drawing pale eyes up to the machine once more. Though... if he could make it to the western breach before the man was relieved, then he might have a shot.

It was about his only  _ subtle  _ shot, that was for sure.

Marrow stepped into the Manta, Harriet finding his gaze and barely suppressing the sigh. She folded her arms across her chest, sitting heavily on one of the benches.

“Took you long enough.”

He let her grouse. She would anyway, and he just rolled his eyes as he made his way to the pilot, slipping into the empty seat next to him.

“Can we converge at the western breach before heading topside? Just need to relay something to the Captain real quick,” he asked the man. Hands about the controls, the pilot gave an easy nod, fingers reaching for a few switches.

“No worries.”

Marrow smiled at him, feeling his chest loosen a little with how easy it had been. Still... it would all be for nought if he couldn't catch him in time, and he tapped away at his scroll, bringing up the man's details.

_ Still at your LZ? _

The message was short and simple, nothing curious about it at all, he told himself as he sent it. A short beat later, and the silent buzz came back to him.

_ Squad Two had an extra scuffle with some Grimm outside. Still waiting for flight clearance. _

Marrow glanced across the city absently as they flitted easily above and between buildings. Waiting for flight clearance meant either something big or a flight capable Grimm, so with a bit of luck, he'd make it in time.

He was still surprised where this sudden drive to speak with him had come from. Well, no... that was a lie. He knew, and it almost worried him with how much it settled deep in his chest.

He was concerned for Clover.

About what it would mean for him if something like this was out in the open. About... what it would mean to his position, and his future. Marrow bit back the sigh. Despite the usual rules and regulations when it came to their team, the two of them had become friends, and if there was something that threatened the man, well...

His brow furrowed. Marrow knew all too well what it meant to be judged on something beyond his control.

_ Something the matter? _

The sudden message in his hand had him blinking back at it, and he was almost glad Harriet had buried herself in the back of the Manta, not caring where they were headed.

_ Need to speak with you before debriefing _ .

There was a short beat of time where Marrow wondered if he was overstepping his bounds, but this was a lot easier than trying to ambush the man on his way off-campus. Or worse, following through with his original notion of stalking him home.

No, no, this was... a lot safer.

And it would only get him yelled at by Harriet, which at this point was water off a duck's back to him.

_ Alright, catch you in a few _ .

The sigh almost slipped from him, and he tucked his scroll back into the folds of his jacket. At least now he'd have his chance, and that alone allowed him to recline into his seat, relief settling through him.

He almost enjoyed the remainder of the trip as they streaked above Mantle.

Even as the western breach came into view, and the array of personnel on the ground began to stand out to him, pale blue eyes were already flitting over each of them, looking for that familiar splash of colour on a uniform. The pilot brought them down gently as Marrow was leaning forward in his seat, one hand on the console and looking over the squads when a hand clapped to his shoulder, causing him to jump out of his skin.

“We're not topside.”

Harriet narrowed calculating eyes at him.

“Why not?”

He opened his mouth to reply, caught entirely off-guard for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“Something... came up with squad five, and since comms are still spotty, I need to report it to the Captain,” came the smooth reply, forcing his heart back out of his throat. Smooth, he told himself, smooth like melted butter. The young woman drew back after a moment, gesturing lightly in the air.

“Fine, make it quick.” She stepped back to let him disembark, easily dropping into his now free seat. “You're riding caboose on the way back.”

Marrow could care less about where it was he sat; he was just glad to be on the ground in time.

He stepped onto the freshly plowed snow, hearing it crunch beneath boots as he spied the man some distance away, speaking with an officer. Taking off in a light jog, he beelined for him as another Manta swooped low overhead.

“Captain! Sir!”

At the call, Clover turned, waving easily back at the young man as he approached. He gave the officer a quick salute, and the woman returned to her squad. “Made it just in time,” he replied, bringing an arm up to lightly shield his face as the Manta landed alongside them. Marrow clenched one eye shut, the other narrowed as snow and grit was thrown haphazardly about them, uniforms and hair blustering with the turbines.

With the defining clunk of a safe landing, and the lowering whine of engines, Clover dropped his arm, returning his gaze to Marrow as the snow settled about them.

“So what's the matter? It sounded pretty urgent.”

The Faunus tried not to fluster at the easy statement, and the short roll of nervous laughter fell from him. “It came across that way? No, uh, nothing... nothing bad, promise.”

Clover settled hands upon his hips as he regarded the operative with an easy smile. So nothing urgent and he  _ wasn't  _ nervous at all, and he  _ knew _ that everyone's missions had gone off without a hitch so far. Alright, he could play this game.

“Harriet's glaring at you  _ pretty  _ hard for veering off course.”

Marrow perked at that, and he glanced over his shoulder to the  _ very _ sharp set of eyes zeroed in on him as she slouched in the co-pilot's seat. He held her gaze for only a moment longer before the sigh fell from him, and he shook his head in mild frustration.

“It's not about her,” he answered dismissively. He glanced about them, glad to see they were the only two people silly enough to stand alongside a Manta as it touched down. Good. Relative privacy for a handful of time, his mind raced.

“It's... it's about this morning.” Pale eyes locked sharply onto the man's, willing his nerve to hold out.

“Your little mystery in the elevator?” Clover asked as activity began to well up about them. “I take it you've made a discovery?”

Marrow huffed out his sigh, eyes ducking to the ground briefly. “It's- Yeah. I, ah...” Gods above and below but he was fumbling his words all over the place  _ and _ he needed to pick up the pace. “Sir, it was coming from you.”

Green eyes blinked back at him, and brows nearly went to his hairline. “ _ Me? _ _”_ the incredulous tone was palpable, and his mind was already ticking over as he began to process it. “Alright... So what's the great concern?”

Pale eyes flicked between the man's, feeling his words wanting to dry up and die on his tongue. He swallowed lightly, cursing his hesitation. No, Clover  _ needed _ to know before anyone else did.

“You need know that I've found the... the source, sir. It's from-”

“Clover. Marrow.”

The two operatives glanced up at their names, seeing Winter standing at the open bay of the Manta. She cast her eyes between the two of them, settling on the Faunus. If she weren't his superior, he almost wanted to  _ shake the life out of her _ for her incredible sense of timing.

“You've completed your missions for the day?”

“Ah, yes ma'am.”

“Then you're free to return topside.”

Well if  _ that _ wasn't the most subtle way to tell him his conversation with Clover was finished. Dammit all to  _ hell and back _ _,_ his mind spat. Now he really  _ would _ have to wait to speak with him for the rest of the day.

Clover's luck hadn't helped him at  _ all,  _ dammit.

He snapped a sharp salute to her. “Ma'am.” Turning away from them, he began his trek back to his Manta, mind cursing up a storm for his hesitation. If only he'd just stopped beating around the bush and spat it out, then-

“Marrow!”

He glanced across his shoulder as the man waved at him.

“We'll finish up later!” Clover called to him as engines began to whine once more. Marrow gave him an easy smile as he returned the wave, and he watched the man step into the waiting Manta.

Snow began to scatter about his legs as the bay door closed, the transport powering up for its takeoff. He turned from the sight as he held stray hair back behind an ear. Well, there was nothing for it, he knew. He'd just have to try his luck later on, and the Manta behind him lifted gently off the ground.

Within the small transport, Clover's hand fell from the bay door panel, unable to keep the faint crease from his brow. Green eyes watched the young man as they took off, and he tried to make further sense of the snatch of conversation they'd just shared.

What exactly was it? This mystery scent that Marrow had been chasing? And it was coming from him? No, attached to him, really, as the source was something else entirely.

So what...  _ was _ the source?

His brow furrowed further, trying to line everything up when there was a soft clearing of a throat behind him. He startled back into the present, nudging his thoughts firmly to the side for the time being.

“Apologies,” he answered Winter's gentle reminder as she took a seat on one of the benches. “You wanted to speak with me, ma'am?”

She gestured to the seat opposite. “I did, yes,” she told him crisply as he took the offered indication to be at ease. Unlike Marrow, she chose the direct route, like many of the choices in her life, and she crossed her legs, hands clasped atop a knee as she fixed her cool gaze upon him, looking for all the world rather relaxed.

Softly analysing the man, but not her own words.

“When we spoke some time ago, I told you to maintain your distance from Qrow,” she began simply. Clover found his attention immediately seized by the words, and something in his chest tightened gently. Winter saw that gaze sharpen, and she sat upright, shoulders straightening.

“It was wrong of me, and I apologised for it. I'm here to remind you that I still stand by that decision; it appears the two of you have formed quite a... positive alliance.”

Clover inclined his head lightly, treading carefully. “We partner well together, and our fighting styles balance well on the field.” He took a moment to gauge that he  _ wasn't  _ about to be lacerated as those eyes continued to search his every response. He almost felt like he was being thrown on trial with the sudden interrogation; she'd all but boxed him in with no escape.

She was  _ also _ speaking with him about Qrow, with no prior prompting, and that did nothing but instil the faint bead of concern in the back of his mind.

“He's an incredible huntsman; even better than what the stories say. It's been an honour getting to work with him, and to remind him what it's like to be on a team.”

Winter allowed the faint brush of a smile to grace her lips. The man was somewhat of a closed book beyond that friendly, amicable exterior, and she already knew the subtle tack of her words would have no affect on him.

Very well.

“He's changed quite a lot over these last few years, and I'm glad to say it's been for the better.”

The candid line fell from her easily, and Clover had to remind himself that this was still his superior speaking, and until the delicate balance of their words tipped, it would remain so. She unclasped her hands, placing them to either side of her as she reclined gently.

“ _ Certainly  _ over these last few weeks; the difference is rather stark,” she added with some secret amusement. “It's been... refreshing to see.” Even as she cast her mind back to the very first words they'd spoken to each other in years, she found that faint smile refusing to budge. She'd attacked him viciously, accused him so harshly, and instead of his usually biting retorts, he had... answered her so softly. Had moved on, without shutting her down.

She almost looked at the memory with fondness, rather than her usual level of scorn directed at the huntsman.

“If I may, ma'am...”

Clover's voice brought her back to him, and she watched those green eyes flick carefully between hers.

“Where... is all this coming from?”

If she allowed herself, she could have easily let the smile break across her entire expression. Still, she didn't want to spook the man when he was looking for all the world like a meticulously contained deer in headlights.

“I'll get to the point. We've all chosen our allies in this war, Captain,” she began simply. “Whether we want to believe it or not. And when the time comes, we will go exactly where we've cast our lot.” She paused, letting the words settle over the man before she reached for her scroll, tapping it open.

“Qrow's allegiances will  _ always _ be with that of his family; he's never made a secret of that fact. So to know that my sister has such a strong ally by her side in what's to come... well...” she trailed off, as if losing her place in her hand-picked words. Losing herself to the words on her tongue, as if they came as some gentle surprise. “I'm grateful to him. He's given her something that few ever have.”

Fingers tapped briskly over her scroll, and a heartbeat later, Clover felt his own vibrate against his chest. Green eyes ducked away as he fished it out, and widened sharply at what she'd sent him, breath seizing behind his ribs.

The picture that greeted him was not at  _ all _ what he was expecting, and his gaze darted back up to her, surprise and  _ perhaps _ a tinge of mild panic dissolving all thought in his mind. His chest tightened as she stared evenly back at him, her eyes betraying nothing untowards whilst his heart lodged firmly in his throat.

Did she...

Was this implying... she knew about..?

“Uh... ma'am, this isn't-”

She held up a hand, silencing him from whatever had sat upon his tongue, and he clenched his jaw tightly shut. Winter still wore that same easy expression, and her eyes hadn't suggested an attack. He tamped down on the furious response that stampeded through his mind, and he took in a deeper, slower breath, letting all that she'd said to him veer his mind drastically back on track.

The same image that had greeted her in the early hours before dawn's light touched the ground, giving her many hours of careful consideration.

The same image of him, sitting happily alongside both Weiss and Qrow, laughing at a shared story that had warmed his heart.

“To know... that she's found such a strong ally in yourself...” the words trickled from her as she tucked her scroll away. “Well... I'm more than grateful to you, as well. My sister has always let her heart choose her path, and I only  _ wish  _ I possessed some small measure of that strength.”

The quiet admission almost hit him with the same force as the photograph upon his scroll, and he found his focus all but shifting to the woman across from him. He straightened slowly as he lowered his hand, letting the device hang loose in his grasp. If only she knew just  _ why  _ Weiss had become so close to him in the first place, he thought wryly. He'd certainly come back to her initial words of thanks in a moment, but... there was something else he needed to address first.

“Ma'am...” No, that wasn't right, and green eyes flicked away for a second as the sigh sat on his tongue, meeting her gaze firmly once more. “Winter, you're... a stronger person than most care to realise.”

It was her turn to be lightly surprised, and blue eyes blinked at his words.

Undaunted by her stillness, he pressed on.

“You've forged your own path this entire time. Stood upon ground of your own making. And you've never let anyone tell you otherwise,” he let the words roll out, almost unbidden, disregarding the entire fact that he almost felt like he was gambling with his life. “You may praise Qrow for looking out for his family, and then myself for the same thing, but don't discredit yourself in the same breath. Weiss is lucky to have a strong role model and a sister such as yourself.”

The words hit her gently, like a firm push to her shoulders, and she was glad she was already sitting down. It was one thing to hear him speak so positively to others, but when the words were directed at her in the same manner... She didn't realise how deep his heart truly ran.

Clover's knack for finding the right things to say extended well past his ability as an operative, it seemed.

Warmth had settled in her chest, and she couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips. Nor could she stop the faint bead of laughter that began to fall lightly from a closed fist. Clover felt for the world like he was witnessing a glacier crack in two, and could do nothing but stare back at her, a little amazed to be seeing it.

The bright sound spilled softly from her, and for a moment, Clover could only hear the warmth of that same laughter that flowed from her sister. His own smile settled across his expression, and he was glad his gamble had paid off. Still... if she was speaking with him so candidly, then it really was no surprise that she'd taken it as well as she had.

That candid photo, however...

He glanced down at his scroll once more as Winter came down from her mirth, and he was almost glad she hadn't decided to go digging any further into that night. They might have been having a  _ very  _ different conversation if she'd seen any of  _ that _ .

Green eyes flicked away for a heartbeat of time; perhaps they already had, and he felt his pulse delicately thud in his ears. Winter was nothing, if not subtle and deadly with her words, knowing exactly where to strike and with what weapon.

The woman released the soft breath as the easy smile sat upon her lips, feeling more unwound than she had in days.

“It's rather nice to talk to you so openly like this,” she told him simply, helping him ignore the beat of his heart in his chest. “I guess this means I have to thank you once more.”

Clover met her words with a brief shake of his head. “There's no need, ma'am.” Already respectful once more, already proper, she noted, resisting the gentle urge to smile at him further. “But... If I may...”

She inclined her head and gestured lightly to him. Not like they hadn't already been gently candid with one another, it told him. He opened his mouth to speak, still cautious about overstepping his bounds. She was, after all, still his superior, and he tucked his scroll away finally. He leant forward, elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands before him, eyes searching the floor.

“It means a lot to hear that from you. About Weiss,” he began softly. “She is... an incredible huntress – an incredible young woman – and a credit to you. I'm more than glad to be a positive influence in her life, and I'm honoured that she's found herself comfortable enough to trust me with such a thing.”

Winter regarded him gently, something in her eyes softening at his quietly spoken words. She hadn't lied when she'd told him she enjoyed his candour; it was always refreshing to speak with someone with such openness and honesty, and Clover was clearly no exception to the rule.

She could see now, how easy it had been for her sister to bring herself to trust him.

His truthfulness and sheer ability to talk to were almost enviable, and it was no wonder at all as to why her sister had looked so happy.

He was also quite good at deflecting exactly what needed to be and slipping under her skin with all the precision of a surgeon's scalpel.

Perhaps it was glib of her to think she would be lucky to hear him speak so openly on the  _ other _ topic weighing heavily on her mind. For what had started as a simple exercise in subtly needling him about the thread that lay in the back of her thoughts, he had almost expertly turned the tables on her.

She found herself not at all disappointed with the results.

Instead, she found herself wishing – truly wishing – they had more time on their hands, to speak at length without the airs and graces of Captain and Specialist. It wasn't all that often that she managed to find someone to speak with so openly; quite a rarity in fact.

When she did, it was usually always a delightful surprise for both parties.

Clover, it seemed, was no exception. Even if she  _ had _ given him the startle of a lifetime, she mused with a private smile upon her lips.

“Thank you...”

The simple breath of her voice was almost lost to the steady hum of the Manta, and Clover could only smile gently at her, inclining his head with that ever-present warm smile.

“Welcome, ma'am.”


	24. Knowing What's Right and Knowing It's You

Sunlight glinted off shimmering steel as the Manta made its way almost lazily above the city of Atlas. For the occupants of the simple transport, conversation had turned once more to almost mediocre topics of work.

Mission detailing was laid bare, reports were exchanged, briefings were discussed. Clover even had time to give the woman his thoughts on how well the teams were progressing under the tutelage of the Ace Ops, to which she was more than satisfied.

A gentle thud rang underneath their feet, as the Manta reached its destination of the Academy forecourt. Both realising that this short spell of a trip was over. Both knowing that their time as Captain and Specialist was publicly about to resume.

They disembarked, Clover waving his thank you to the pilot through the windscreen. The easy wave was returned, and turbines began to wind up once more, wind blustering hair and uniform alike as the Manta lifted from the ground like a lazy beetle, drifting back towards the vast city.

“Clover.”

He turned at the call of his name, meeting her crisp gaze as her hair settled from the sudden gust. Hands neatly tucked at the small of her back, she stood proud, once more the superior.

It was only there for a flicker of time before it vanished, and she glanced to the ground with the barest brush of a smile. As if she were deliberating the proper approach now that her armour had been brought up once more

“Thank you...” she settled upon. “For reminding me of certain things. It's been some time now, and I appreciate it. Though... if I may expand upon my words from earlier.”

He inclined his head lightly to her, and that smile only grew, reaching her eyes once more.

“Weiss has been through more than you could possibly imagine, and whilst she is far, far removed from the image of a delicate little girl, her heart is still fragile.” The words were spoken softly, with a gentleness that almost betrayed her stance. “Where once, her safety and wellbeing was my  _ only _ priority, I found myself rather accepting of this family she has surrounded herself with. They're strong – far stronger than anyone would ever give them credit for, and I've come to trust them with my sister's heart more than you could ever know.”

Clover found himself stilling lightly, letting her words fall over him. He knew better than to take her words at face value, particularly when they were coming straight from her heart and speaking directly to his.

“Her family...  _ does _ have a funny way of helping you better shift your perspectives,” she continued, an oddly pleased look settling upon her. “They seem to always choose with their hearts, something that I wish I had the luxury of. But whilst my path is set, and I can only watch and support them from my place here in Atlas, know that they do not make...  _ any  _ choice lightly.”

Winter tilted her head lightly towards the man. “Particularly when it comes to  _ who _ they let in to their little circle.”

The man felt the heavy stillness in the air about them, despite the chilling brightness of the day, and he could only stare evenly back at her. He realised with sombre clarity that his breath had stilled in his chest, and he drew another in slowly, the weight of her words crossing him fully.

Without even meaning to, he'd been accepted into their family. In what had begun as a delicate balancing act of trust, the man had fallen backwards into far more than he'd initially realised. This rag-tag group of teenagers were far more than that; they were the utter embodiment of family, lead firmly and proudly by their hearts and their souls.

With Qrow, it had all felt so simple. He'd chosen to carefully take the man's heart into his hands; to help him through whatever darkness or mess of tangles he'd found himself in. He simply loved him, and everything that came with it.

That  _ everything _ simply happened to include a family who were willing to open their arms and accept him as one of their own, and the very thought had him stilling entirely.

_ We're celebrating as  family. _

What had been spoken as a simple line from the girl had... seemingly far more depth than Clover had initially thought, and he found his gaze lost as singular snatches of memory brushed across shoulders, catching on clothing. Where the night had initially been about surprising one man and helping a bunch of kids from Beacon, it was only just now, in the chill of the Academy forecourt, that his mind rang with the heady peal of clarity.

He... was one of their family now.

_It's been too long since we've seen him this happy._

All because he'd chosen to open his heart up to one man, and the rest simply followed behind, like so many falling dominoes.

Winter could only see the dawning look of comprehension and understanding on his expression. She lifted her head slightly.

“You understand, then.”

“I... believe so.”

“And you understand why?”

Such an easy question and yet it held the heaviness of the world on its shoulders. Why? Well... why, indeed. The brushes of memory against his shoulders began to coalesce and snatch at him, and he drew his gaze away finally.

It had been there when Ruby had freely offered him Qrow's rings, and he'd gathered her up so tightly in his arms.

It had been there when Weiss had laughed with him gently, at the end of a night out, and told him to look after the stubborn old bird with a gentle kiss to his cheek.

It had been during training sessions, when Nora had successfully tackled him to the ground with a holler, ruffling his hair in victory.

It had been with both Oscar and Jaune as talks of strategy and battle tactics had lead them all down a path of bright peals of breathless laughter, as embarrassing stories were shared.

It had been there when Ren had found him in the library, and he saw the way his eyes had lit up as they bounced easily through topics of food and recipes and cuisines from different continents.

It had been with Yang and Blake, as their eyes followed the two of them on a dance floor, feeling the warmth at his back as he tried not to stumble through his words.

… it had been with Qrow himself, in every single touch, and brush, and word, and steadying hold that had ever passed between them. As he was allowed to carefully take his heart into his fingers, feeling the strands begin to unravel as he picked and plucked, sifted and sorted, chipping, chipping, until something dislodged, falling to the ground with a resounding clatter.

It had been in so many places and so many more that came to mind, and as his brow pinched faintly, he drew his gaze back up to the young woman.

“What are... you trying to convince me of, ma'am?” he couldn't help but ask.

“Nothing you haven't already been convinced of, I'm sure.” Her words were simple in tone, almost playfully dismissive. “This family is fond of you, Clover, and I find myself wanting to keep it that way.”

And if that wasn't the most pleasantly worded, roundabout, terrifying way of her telling him that 'if he disappointed them in any way, she would squash him like an insignificant bug' Clover had ever heard, he didn't know what was.

It still didn't stop him from allowing the warm smile to break across his expression, and he reached up to run a hand across the back of his neck. Winter's heart ran far deeper than he'd ever given her credit, and it almost surprised him to think he'd ever been so dismissive of her in that regard.

“In that case... I can only do my best not to let you, nor any of them down, ma'am,” he told her sincerely.

Her own smile was warm upon her lips. “Good.”

She brought her hand up in sharp salute, and Clover returned the gesture. It was only as she turned from him, heels clicking a vanishing rhythm against the path, that he let out the breath he was holding, feeling shoulders slacken a little.

She may have been speaking to him on simple, open terms, but there was a definite line in the sand, and it all came down to how carefully he'd chosen his words. He had the distinct feeling that if he'd said anything other than what he did, that it would have had a  _ very _ different outcome.

Winter may have been many things, yet a fool was not amongst them. Her words still held promise over him that he was  _ certainly _ going to abide by, regardless of the fact she was his superior.

It was... not at all what he expected from a simple flight back to Atlas with his commanding officer, and it altogether left the faint tremor trickling under his skin with the strength behind her words.

Whenever she came to him with a piece of advice, he was fast learning it was nothing as simple as that.

Brows pinched as he thought back to the picture on his scroll. Not at  _ all . _

It gave him pause for concern as he brought it out once more, tapping it open to stare at the full picture. Councilman Sleet and someone he thought he recognised. It had been a photo of pure chance, and had managed to capture the image of both Weiss and himself perfectly across the man's shoulder. Qrow was barely in frame, unless you knew what to look for, and he blinked a little, letting his thoughts scurry away as he glanced off to the side.

Winter... hadn't mentioned anything pertaining to the two of them. Nothing at all. If anything, she was more broadly accepting of how he'd been taken into their fold. After a conversation like that with her, he could only imagine that she'd take the news of the two of them rather well.

His frown deepened.

It should've made him happier, but...

The longer he left it to tell his superiors and those around them, the more they would  _ both _ have to dance around their words. It was a position he was certain neither of them wanted to be in, and it was rapidly beginning to weigh in the forefront of his mind.

He certainly wasn't concerned with anyone's reactions; what he did with his life was his own choice. It was more the need to be able to speak freely; something he was sure Qrow could relate to.

Green eyes closed, and the heavy sigh fell from him.

What he  _ needed _ to do was speak with Qrow, to find out whether or not they were on the same page. Fingers swiped away the photo; what's done was done, and he brought up the huntsman's details.

***

Going straight down was infinitely easier than going straight up.

It was also a hell of a lot more satisfying.

That was the only thought that punctured his mind as Qrow found himself plummeting towards the city of Mantle, wind tearing at his clothes and whipping his hair about. The easy smile found him as he brought his arms up to his face, punching into a thick layer of cloud and feeling the chill of the air stinging his skin.

What was a day off, if he couldn't take to the skies and have a little fun with it?

Even if that fun meant he might wind up a little sore after the fact.

In a burst of sunlight that dazzled his senses, he broke through the cloud, letting the familiar rush of freedom streak through his veins and across his skin. He would give anything to be able to hold onto the sensation for the rest of his life.

Buildings and activity were sprawling below him like ants, and red eyes were sweeping quickly across the streets from on high. He knew where he had to go, and now it was just a matter of finding exactly what it looked like from thousands of feet in the air.

A sign consisting of a tiny pinprick of light, the worst colour imaginable to hunt for in the middle of the afternoon; lost in a city that was already awash with all manner of similar colours and similar neon foliage.

He narrowed his eyes as he rapidly traced through their original path coming into Mantle from so many weeks ago; as if he were casually reading a map, and not careening towards his destination. South, south, further to the west-

His attention perked when he spied two familiar looking taller buildings, and sure enough, just to the left of it was a tiny smudge of a green sign, hoisted atop a square, flat building. Qrow tucked himself in tight, wind screaming over his senses as he continued his rapid descent through the frigid air.

It was true, he could've picked the sane route and taken a transport to the surface, but this was far more suited to his unique talents, as James had told him.

And it was exhilarating as hell.

Still, it wouldn't do to be seen plummeting from the world above, and probably giving some citizen down below the startle of a lifetime. He'd already been caught by  _ that  _ particular happenstance more than enough times. The memory drew the bright laugh from him, and the closer the ground became, the shorter he knew his window of opportunity was growing.

He suddenly spread limbs out further, feeling the instant drag from the wind, and as he felt the familiar tug and push from thermal vents down below, he vanished in a scattering of black feathers.

Mantle, it seemed, had far better external heating than the city above, and the raven was almost surprised by the level of updraft coming from the surface. It continued it's downward plummet, feeling the cooler air slice between feathers as it tracked the building it sought.

With an easy change to it's tack, it began a lazy spiral, circling far above the buildings as it descended further towards the city.

It still didn't stop it's smaller body from being buffeted lightly about with the different pockets of air temperature, and it sorely wanted to huff at the inconvenience. The warmer air was a blessing to it's body, certainly, but each and every push it brought from beneath meant that it had to be cautious as antennas and wires and poles came into view.

A second broken wing just wouldn't do.

Skirting past the side of a taller building, it found it's target, and the open roof of that square, flat building. The sun still streamed down upon it, and as the raven drew in for a landing, wings flared, landing in a smart little hop.

Red eyes glanced about itself, and in a brief ruffle of feathers for warmth, the sounds of the world about it began to settle upon it once more, rather than the scream of the wind in it's ears. Sounds of chatter and laughter filtered up from the streets below, with transport ships and vehicles mingling together. Soft bird calls soon became louder as the raven's presence was noticed, and red eyes ducked up to the surrounding buildings.

It came from smaller birds, those menacing scavengers that always seemed to congregate under awnings and eaves, and snatched food scraps from the ground. They perched high about the raven here and there, yelling harsh warnings at it. Some of the braver ones swooped at it with a shrill cry, and the raven flapped it's wings up in irritation, ducking out of their reach with it's own disgruntled cawing.

Little brats always thought they owned the city...

In a burst of feathers, the huntsman appeared once more, and the smaller birds scattered with sharper cries of startle. He let the smirk of amusement sit easily upon his lips as he brushed himself down; worked every time like a charm.

It still didn't stop him from reaching a hand up to a shoulder, giving it a slow and gentle roll to ease some of the tension out of muscles. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but a gentle glide to the surface wouldn't be the end of him.

He walked to the edge of the building, glancing down at the street, and sure enough – there was the familiar green sign he was hoping to see. He was glad to see his aim wasn't off. Still, the occupant probably wouldn't want to see a visitor coming in from the top floor, and he made his way to the other side of the building, where the alley ran. A quieter, more discreet place to drop to the ground below, rather than his not-so-discreet entrance into the city street itself.

Qrow had barely placed a foot to the edge of the stonework, when his scroll chimed, and he fought back the light grouse on his tongue as he fished it out. The smile found him at the caller's name, and he placed a hand to his hip, bringing the device to his ear.

“Morning,” he said by way of casual greeting.

Clover laughed gently at him. “Barely.”

The huntsman shrugged to himself as he wandered the rooftop idly.

“The sun's still up; it counts.”

“That  _ does  _ depend on what continent you're on.” An amused beat of time as static crawled through the edge of his words. “How's your day been?”

Qrow felt the lightness of the question wash over him with all the force of a tidal wave, and he found his smile faltering as red eyes searched the sky. It was an answer that had been sitting on his tongue for so long, and it now skittered in his chest with the gentle words from the man.

It had been wonderful.

It... had been terrifying.

Both answers nearly slipped from him unbidden, and he tucked ring adorned fingers firmly into a pocket. He was utterly lying to himself if he'd said it hadn't been on his mind ever since he'd first stumbled across the revelation. Something that had completely blindsided him as he sat upon a simple bench, on a breathtaking overlook in the city above.

Home.

His hand curled in his pocket, and he felt something skitter in his chest.

He wanted almost desperately to say something, but he didn't trust his words nor his resolve to even  _ know _ where to begin with something like that. It wasn't as if he didn't want to talk with the man about it, gods above and below, no. Qrow simply... needed a little more breathing room to smooth the notion out in his mind.

There would be plenty of time to talk with Clover about the concept, but... for now, he had to keep going, lest the silence alert keen ears.

“Good. I ah... caught up with James finally,” he said, pushing the words out to keep himself moving. He didn't want to get lost within that emotion again now that he was talking with the man in question. No. Not over a scroll conversation. Not at  _ all _ .

“Talked... about a lot of things. Mainly just caught up with everything that's happened since Beacon.” The quiet laughter of amusement fell from him. “I'm  _ pretty sure _ he didn't take it to heart when I told him what I really thought about him still using AKs.”

Clover could only mirror the gentle laughter. “He is fond of them. And I'm glad the two of you got to talk; I'm sure it's been a while.” There was another brief lull in their conversation and a soft brush of static tinted the call once more. “Spending the rest of your day off in Mantle, I take it?”

Qrow blinked a little at the question, and he couldn't help but glance about him, brows furrowed.

“Do you have a tracker on me or something?”

Clover could only laugh softly at the words, the sound tickling his ear with that same gentle hiss of a bad line.

“And if I did?”

“I'd start calling you my stalker instead of a shrink.”

_ That _ drew a proper laugh from the man, and Qrow let the sound settle through him. It really was something he'd never tire of hearing, which was good, considering the man seemed to laugh all too often. He reached up to run fingers through his hair idly, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Don't worry; it's just your aura level trace. Considering it's telling me you're somewhere straight down, I took a pretty wild guess. That, and the static is terrible.”

“Well, you'd be right on the money. I'm actually down here on a mission for James.”

Red eyes traced up to the behemoth of land above him, following the seams of immense tether cables as they vanished into the island. Part of him wondered how subtle it would be to take a peek between the spiderweb of architecture in  _ that  _ particular no-fly zone; though knowing James, he likely had defences against birds, too. Just in case.

Pity, he was kinda of curious now.

“Your first official mission since returning to the field? Congratulations.”

The words caught the huntsman off-guard and he baulked a little, blinking his attention back to the horizon, brows furrowing deeply.

“What?”

“You'll probably find that the guy in charge of handing out missions needs to see those same clearance reports, right?” Clover's teasing explanation did nothing but wring the flush of embarrassed colour to Qrow's cheeks. He hadn't planned on mentioning anything to the man, nor his family, about being barred from missions, because hell, it wasn't as if he didn't know what his limits were.

He knew what he was capable of in the field, and no Atlas medical report was going to tell him otherwise.

He'd never had to rely on them in the past, that's for sure.

Qrow pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, fair point. But it's not as if I've been  _ completely _ incapable since it happened.” Still... He let his hand fall away; a sudden thought striking him gently, sobering him, in the forefront of his mind. “But... you... never said anything about it.”

Clover was clearly amused over the whole situation. “No, I don't think I could've stopped you if I tried.”

The huntsman felt a gentle warmth settle about his shoulders, and the words caught him unawares, stilling him entirely.

“You know yourself better than anyone else, and I trusted that,” the man finished, and it could only bring the faint smile to the huntsman's lips. For days and days, veritable weeks, he'd simply let Qrow go about his business, wiping his slate clean when it came to missions, turning a blind eye to all things official. It was far more than most people had done for him in recent history, and certainly miles beyond that of anyone in the military.

He was finding more ways to adore this man, he realised.

Red eyes closed, and he allowed the warm smile to envelop him entirely. “Thanks... for not telling on me, I guess,” he told him with a gentle tone of amusement. “Somehow I don't think Ruby would've taken it well.”

“Oh, she was the reason I  _ didn't _ _,”_ came the immediate reply.

Qrow could only laugh at the words, and he found something in his chest loosening, as if the man were simply pulling gently at yet another one of the many tangles within him. No, he could imagine how Ruby would've taken the news of him being medically barred from missions; she would've all but confined him to his room, which would have driven him stir-crazy for a week. Not only that, but he could just about imagine Yang guarding his door, too. His nieces were fierce enough that even  _ Salem  _ wouldn't want to approach them whilst on guard duty.

Hell, they'd probably manage to wrangle in the rest of the teams in order to ensure his safety until he was healed.

He brought his hand to the bridge of his nose without thinking, and he shook his head lightly. His family were  _ certainly _ a force to be reckoned with...

“Speaking of reasons,” Clover's voice broke into his thoughts gently, “it's why I'm calling.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to hear the sound of my voice.” Qrow lowered his hand to his hip, unable to keep the teasing smirk from his lips.

The man's gentle laughter was punctuated by a soft wash of static.

“Alright, you caught me there...” he breathed. “Though I did promise you dinner, and I wanted to see if you were still free.”

Qrow resisted the urge to snort. “Not like my social calendar's full these days.” He let his gaze settle absently on the mountains and he made a brief noise of thought. “All going well, I should be topside in about an hour or so. Plenty of time to plan another crazy night out,” he added with a soft laugh.

There was a gentle sound of amusement across the line, washing with static once more.

“Good to know,” Clover told him. “Ah, it won't be anything as fancy as last night though, don't worry.” The huntsman could only laugh at the words, and he glanced up at the bulk of Atlas slung above him.

“I think once a year is about as much as I can take, no offence. The Atlas elite and I never really go well in the same sentence, let alone the same paragraph.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe not even the same book.”

There was a faint scuffle of movement on the other end of the line, voices drifting in through the ever-present hiss of static, and it was punctuated with a huff of laughter from the man. His voice was suddenly pulled away as a snatch of conversation drifted in from another source, and Clover was lost to him for a handful of time. Here they were, both on the job and still finding the time to simply chat to one another. Honestly, if Qrow could've told himself a month ago that a simple conversation about nothing would've brightened his day so much, he would've almost laughed at the notion.

He still couldn't wrap his mind around it, no matter how many times he tried.

“I promise, it'll be casual,” Clover reiterated gently. “Though I hate to cut this short, but duty ever calls. I'll see you tonight.”

Qrow found the brush of a smile paint itself across his expression.

“Alright, it's a date.”

Something so utterly casual about his words, but it was almost worth it for the gentle silence they wrought. If he thought about it, he could almost hear the man's mind stutter to a complete stop at the implications of what he'd just said, and he couldn't help the brightening of his smile.

“I, ah... I guess it is,” Clover laughed softly into the line.

The huntsman mirrored his gentle laugh, feeling warmth blossom through his chest at the almost complete flip in the man's manner. If it was this easy to turn the conversation on its ear and stump the man, he would've done it far earlier.

“Hey, take care of yourself until then,” Qrow breathed softly. There was a handful of hesitation on his own tongue, quickly shelved, and he drew in a softer breath, red eyes flicking downwards to the horizon. “Love you.”

Even if he'd been the one to initiate the initial tease of words into their conversation, it was this clutch of words that stilled the breath in his own chest, and he kept his eyes firmly on the world above him. He swallowed against the beat of his heart in his throat, and it felt worlds apart from when he'd almost giddily announced the words to him the night before.

This felt... almost casual. A simple, affectionate whisper between the two of them, rather than the declaration that it really was.

It... felt almost terrifying.

It felt like home.

And if  _ that  _ particular thought didn't cause him to draw the quiet breath past the pressure about his throat, he didn't know what did.

“I love you too.”

The words were like a shard of glass, and they sliced through the tightness that coursed through his lungs. At once, the warm flood spilled through his chest, and Qrow couldn't help but reach up to brush fingers across his sternum, feeling his heart skitter behind ribs for an entirely different reason.

“See you tonight, Qrow,” the man added gently, and the call ended in the huntsman's ear.

For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to move, and it took him a handful of time to lower the scroll from his ear, staring back at the man's picture before it faded out. He really... had said...

There was no escaping the wash of almost pure elation that ran through him as he heard the echoed words over in his mind again and again, bringing the brightest of smiles to his entire expression. It was something so simple, spoken so casually, and yet it had been something he'd not heard in...

Gods, far too long to even remember.

Without thought, he gathered his scroll in both hands, bringing it up to rest against his forehead as red eyes scrunched closed, warm smile eclipsing his entire expression. He knew his heart was skittering in his chest like an idiot, and he couldn't stop it if he tried. It was something he hadn't let himself feel since he was a teenager.

It was a rush like no other, and he simply let himself  _ feel it. _

His heart was light and beating in his ears as he tucked his scroll away. For what had started out as a simple day off had... proven entirely otherwise. But so far, he certainly wasn't complaining about any of it.

Qrow let the soft hum of amusement slip from him, and he traced fingers through his hair. He felt downright giddy, and it seemed almost paltry to compare it to the pale imitation of a soaring freefall back to earth.  _ That _ was a feeling unto itself, but it couldn't hold a candle to the way his heart beat so light in his chest.

Right. Mission.

He had a mission to complete.

He could let himself fall under the spell of those words when he was finished for the day. Returning to the edge of the building, he placed a foot to the masonry, leaning forwards to get a better look at the alleyway below.

In a flash, he had to rip himself backwards as a blade shot upwards from the ground, raking through the space his head had been. Qrow sprang back on one hand out of pure reflex, landing with Harbinger drawn, and war-scythe extended towards his attacker.

Stupid-! He'd been careless and let his guard down for a heartbeat of time to-

“Oh, Qrow!”

Red eyes widened, and he felt himself jerk his head back in surprise at the voice. He had little time to wonder about it, as a flourish of red hair and delicate frills boosted up from the alleyway.

Penny landed before him, deep concern spreading across her entire expression as she clasped her hands before her, that wicked blade folding down and tucking away safely.

“I am  _ so _ sorry! Truly!” she bowed deeply to him, and Qrow released the heavy breath that had seized in his chest, relaxing his stance entirely. Son of a... She'd nearly taken his  _ head  _ off because of his distraction, and he swallowed lightly, Harbinger compacting back in his hands once more.

“Don't worry about it, kid,” he told her easily, despite the way his heart had leapt firmly into his throat for altogether different reasons than a moment ago. “Gave me a hell of a scare, but I'll live.”

“No, it was my fault entirely! I should have properly checked my sensors before reacting like that,” the girl explained, still looking for all the world like a scolded puppy. Even as Qrow reached up to place a hand to her shoulder, she could only shake her head. “It's just that we've had so many attempted break-ins recently, that I've taken to patrolling closer around home. So... so when I got the alert that something heavy had appeared on our roof, I reacted without thinking!”

Qrow couldn't fault her for her reasoning, and he gave her shoulder a light squeeze. Not like he hadn't seen or done  _ that  _ himself in the past, despite his usual brand of trouble being a little larger in scope. But beyond the rest of her words, there  _ was _ that troubling little line she'd mentioned.

It seemed surprising that only one huntsman had been called to aid them, yet he'd still help them out to the best of his ability.

“Penny, it's fine,” he said, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. “No harm, no foul, alright?”

That seemed to throw her for a loop, and she tilted her head a little at him. “Foul? I didn't realise we were playing a game.”

The huntsman drew his hand away as he tucked Harbinger safely back into place once more, warm smile crossing his expression. Her naivety was certainly endearing, and he could see why she and Ruby had become solid friends through the years. They were practically two peas in a pod in a lot of ways.

“Ah, it's an expression,” he gestured lightly as he wandered back towards the edge of the building. “Means there was no damage done, so there's no need to worry about it.” Red eyes swept over the alleyway far below them, glad to actually see it properly without distraction. Narrow, a few obstacles along the way down, but a quiet and discreet entrance to the street.

“Oh! Thank you very much!” Penny exclaimed brightly. “It is so nice to learn something new, but... are you intending to fall off the edge of the building?”

Qrow blinked over his shoulder at her. “Uh. Drop down to the street, actually. Figured I'd use the front door.”

“Well, there is no need for that now that I'm here.”

She jogged over to him, grasping his hand firmly and pulling him from his place. Without waiting for a reply, he was tugged towards the roof access to the building, a short stammer of protest falling from him as she tapped a rapidfire sequence into the door panel.

“Father has been expecting you, and he'll certainly be happy to know that I've returned for the morning. We can greet him together!” Her usual brand of cheery babble spilled between them as she lead the huntsman inside. “Why, I expect he's been putting the finishing touches on his latest project while he's been waiting for you. It's quite a feat, too; and I can wholeheartedly say that considering he created me, as well!”

Qrow could only smile at her as they left the relative warmth of the sunshine behind them, guided through all manner of twists and turns. He  _ was _ proud of himself for not stumbling through those horrendously cluttered hallways even once; something that Penny had navigated through rather expertly.

He had to wonder how Pietro made his way through  _ any  _ of it.

With the way her fingers had curled tightly about his, there was no way to escape her, and he simply resigned himself to the fact he was going to see the scientist one way or another. He rolled his eyes skywards as he was pulled into one of the more open rooms, resisting the urge to sigh at her.

“Father! Qrow has arrived! I managed to greet him before he jumped off the roof!” Penny announced cheerily, finally releasing the huntsman's hand and continuing on to her terminal. She stepped into it, bringing a hand up to wave at the two of them as she connected herself to the myriad of exposed cables. “I'll now begin downloading this morning's patrol data. It was lovely to speak with you again, Qrow!”

Pietro stirred from his work after a few seconds, realising what his daughter had  _ actually  _ said, and he glanced up sharply from the screen he'd been staring at, brown eyes darting over to the huntsman.

“He was going to  _ what? ” _

Qrow startled sharply at the reaction, feeling his shoulders bunch as those eyes bored straight into him. He suddenly felt a little trapped and  _ more _ than thrown under the bus as he ducked his gaze over to the girl in question; already connected to her station and falling into standby. Oh lucky for her,  _ she _ got to dodge the entire proceedings and take a nap, leaving the huntsman to deal with the fallout of her words.

“I- It was just to get to the front door,” he explained hurriedly, avoiding those eyes. “Done it a thousand times before in  _ worse  _ circumstances. I mean, we all have landing strategies for a reason, right?”

Pietro gave a sigh as he shook his head lightly, pushing back from the screen. He couldn't stop the short chuckle from slipping from him, and he plucked his glasses from his nose, cleaning them almost absently as he wandered towards his guest.

“Mm, once a huntsman, always a huntsman,” he mused aloud, inspecting his glasses for a moment before replacing them. “Well, if it's the quicker route down, who am I to say no? I appreciate a good display of efficiency, you know.”

Qrow could only meet his words with a soft breath of a laugh, reaching up to rub the side of his neck. Well, at least he didn't have to deal with that needling gaze any further; Pietro had the same uncanny knack for glaring as Taiyang, it appeared. Seemed to be a skill all fathers had, his mind whispered. He hadn't missed being on the receiving end of  _ that  _ multiple times from the blond in the past.

He wandered to the edge of the desk, leaning up against it as he ducked a hand into his vest.

“If it's efficiency you want, then I'm more than happy to help.” He withdrew fingers, presenting the scientist with a small data drive. Pietro spied it and his expression lit up, throwing his hands into the air.

“You brought it with you! Excellent work, most excellent!” he exclaimed, plucking it from Qrow's hand and already logging on to the nearest terminal. “I've been waiting on this for nearly a week now, so thank you very much, Qrow! You're an absolute blessing!”

The sudden influx of praise could do nothing but bring the flush of warmth to the huntsman's collar, and he shrugged nonchalantly, unable to keep the whisper of a smile from settling upon him.

“James... told me it was just a mission, so... I wouldn't go that far,” he replied with a breath of a laugh. Pietro waved him off.

“Nonsense! If anything, you've just saved all our bacons by delivering this.” His eyes were firmly fixed on the screen as he loaded the contents of the drive into his system. Qrow wasn't quite following, and he glanced off to the side for a moment, trying to piece it together with a deep crease to his brow.

“It's not... something to do with the break-ins Penny mentioned, is it?” he ventured as he peered over the man's shoulder. It struck him after a moment, and his expression softened, taking stock of some particular lines of code that he saw streaming past the screen.

“It is...” he breathed almost absently. “And they're not physical break-ins.”

Pietro nodded to him, one hand brushing along his beard as he skimmed the contents of the rather vicious wall of code.

“Indeed, indeed,” he murmured absently. “We've been getting a few attacks on our system lately, since it's one of the closest, off-site Military terminals in Mantle. Small attacks, mind you, but it felt more like they're probing our security systems, rather than outright attacking it.  _ So far .” _

Brown eyes caught flecks of code here and there as he skimmed it at a rapid pace, adding a line or modifying something as he went.

“I'd written up a temporary patch for our systems here, but without the final pieces of the Military's code from those turkeys upstairs, there was no way to properly implement it.”

Qrow raised his brows at that, knowing it was no small feat to go up against the Atlas Military. He should know; he'd already done it a few times in his life, but all of it had been in a purely physical sense. He could certainly see the issue if it came down to any attack on their systems, though.

Hell, he'd already seen it happen, with devastating results.

His brow furrowed as his mind weighed up the implications of it. If it happened again in the heart of both Atlas and Mantle, it would be gods awful at least and catastrophic at worst.

The faint breath of a sigh slipped from him, and he ran fingers through his hair. He didn't even want to think about what it would be like for the people of the twin cities. With as isolated as they were in Solitas, it could mean a particularly nasty end. To nearly  _ everything _ that kept them alive.

It... would be the fall of Beacon all over again.

Not a pleasant thought at  _ all _ _,_ he realised, and he almost wanted to groan in exasperation. Pietro said it had  _ only _ taken them a week to get off their asses and deliver this to him, when the huntsman had drawn up the disastrous conclusion in a handful of time.

Then again, James had a funny way of prioritising things in his world, he realised with a heavy sigh.


	25. Rings and Ruination

Qrow's mind was brought back to the world when a sharp beep echoed about them, and Pietro sat back with a heavy, if not satisfied sigh. He reached up with one hand, pushing his cap back a little to scratch fingertips over the top of his head, readjusting it once he was done.

“Well now, that's a relief!” he announced happily. The amused smile spread across his expression as he glanced up at Qrow. “All installed with nary a fuss, thanks to Penny.”

The huntsman stood upright once more, glancing over at the slumbering girl, still plugged into her terminal. How had she-

The quiet chuckle met his ears. “Just because she's taking a little nap, doesn't mean her systems are entirely offline. No, she can still run a few things for me alongside her uplink.” Qrow could only stare back at him, brows ducking to his hairline. He hadn't even  _ thought _ about that aspect of it. Honestly, he kept forgetting she wasn't human most of the time, and he signed softly.

Kids these days...

“Well hey, as long as it's efficient, right?”  _ That  _ drew the laugh from the old man, and Qrow folded his arms across his chest.

“I see you catch on fast.”

“When you need to deal with eight teenagers at once, you learn to cut corners where it counts,” he told the man with a wry smirk. Pietro could only laugh heartily at the huntsman in deep understanding.

“And here I thought I had my hands full with just my darling girl at times, but you  _ certainly _ beat me there!” he chuckled. He reached up underneath his glasses as his laughter tapered off, wiping his eyes gently. “Goodness, I don't know how you'd manage it at times.”

Qrow offered a nonchalant shrug. “Honestly? They're a good bunch  _ without _ my supervision. Got their heads screwed on right, that's for sure,” he answered rather proudly. “Making sure they  _ stay _ on the right side of the law has been the only hurdle at times, but I'm sure you can appreciate that.”

“Ha! If the  _ law's _ the only thing you're worried about, you're in the wrong profession, buster.”

Both of them turned at the new voice, and Qrow could only snort softly at the words, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Maria made her way towards them, wry smile on her expression as her cane tapped quietly on the ground.

“Oh yeah? Well according to the history books, you're the worst offender of the lot,” Qrow shot at her gently, unable to keep the smile from his lips. The woman humphed shrilly at him, stopping before them and placing both hands atop the skull adorning her weapon, glaring up at the huntsman.

“Funny. The way I remember it, you wanted to be just as good as me. Which makes  _ you  _ just as much of a troublemaker as I was,” she needled him right back. “And with the way you let those kids walk all over you, well, it's no wonder you're worrying about the law.”

Qrow let the snort of laughter tear from him, shaking through his shoulders in genuine mirth; he'd honestly missed the whip-sharp acidity from the old thing, and was glad she hadn't lost her touch since they last spoke. The woman could only look up at him, somewhat impressed, her optics blinking at him a little owlishly.

“Well now, would you look at that; he actually  _ can _ laugh without irony,” she commented almost gently.

The huntsman felt his laughter taper to a soft halt, and he cleared his throat a little at her words. It echoed softly in his mind, and he couldn't stop the warmth from settling at his collar at the statement.

“Ah... yeah.” He unfolded his arms, reaching up to rub lightly at the back of his neck. “Guess you could say I've been... doing some soul-searching since we landed here. Sorting myself out a little. Been a... a long time coming if you ask my nieces,” he admitted to her gently.

Maria could only stare at him for a moment, letting his soft and halting words settle over her. Sorting himself out a little, he'd said – the notion almost made her want to laugh herself silly. The huntsman standing before her was  _ leagues _ apart from the sorry excuse of a man she'd seen time and time again. Hells above, she'd witnessed first-hand how tightly wound he'd been, how he practically never dropped his guard, how he hardly spoke a whit of his feelings to anyone –  _ including  _ his nieces. And  _ certainly  _ not to two people who were still veritable strangers to him.

It might've also been her eyes on the fritz again, but he looked healthier. Had a better colour to his cheeks, and not that almost sickly shade of a pallor that clung to him like a second skin. Perhaps the silly bean had started eating properly after all, and not pecking at his food like a sparrow, the way he usually did.

She gave a brief noise of thought, looking at the smile that he wore. It certainly wasn't bright, nor was it overly proud, despite his words, but it was genuine. Warm. Honest. It reached his eyes, and in her short time knowing the huntsman, she realised it was something that had been lost to him for many a year.

The boy had a tragedy surrounding his soul that seemed to cling to his very bones.

The one standing before her was a veritable ray of sunshine after a thunderstorm.

Her own wry smile found its way to her lips, and she tilted her head towards Pietro a little.

“I'll bet you thirty lien he's in love,” she commented in a drippingly obvious stage whisper.

Qrow's eyes widened sharply and he sucked in a breath so suddenly, it hit the back of his throat, nearly choking him. He coughed harshly into his hand, trying not to double over from it as the other two laughed brightly to themselves. It did nothing to help the blaze of rampant colour that broke across his skin, either.

He whacked his chest a few times, trying to dislodge his tongue back into its proper place, glaring at the old hag; his eyes watering from the effort to breathe through a burning throat.

“Maria, that's a bet I could never take,” Pietro replied as best as he could through his laughter.

“Did you-” Qrow's throat caught again, and he coughed into his hand once more, glaring as best as he could manage at the man. “You  _ told  _ her?” he finally managed to shoot out, ears all but  _ burning. _

“Now why would he do that?” Maria was clearly enjoying giving the boy a serious dose of chaos. “ _ Especially _ since you just did!”

The huntsman was caught halfway between another coughing fit and a splutter of a minor meltdown, and he almost wanted the floor to open up underneath him. Just swallow him up entirely where he stood. He knew his skin was damn near burning with the colour that raced along his neck, and he felt the heat along the back of his ears.

He couldn't stop the almost pained sigh that slipped from him, swallowing through a sore throat as he pressed a hand to his face. This day was going to be the end of him. He was about to be murdered by a little old lady where he stood.

_ Gods _ above, he'd rather deal with Yang's needling than  _ this _ _._ At least the brat was a known quantity compared to the spitfire of an old woman standing before him, cackling like a mad thing.

“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” she chided him, whapping his leg with her cane. “A little love never killed anyone! Seems to have done  _ you  _ the world of good.”

Qrow glared down at her rather ineffectively, cheeks still flushed with a heady dose of embarrassment as he resisted the urge to rub at his leg. She might've been old, but she still packed a punch and knew  _ exactly  _ where to hit.

Rude old bat.

“So out with it!” Maria continued, prodding him with her cane again. The huntsman could only swat at her in irritation. “Who's the lucky sod that managed to turn you into a ray of sunshine?”

He baulked entirely at that, thrown a little at her rather  _ choice _ phrasing; Pietro... hadn't really told her, had he?

He cleared his throat softly, adjusting how he leant against the desk a little as he ducked his gaze away. Gods above, but it was shades of the past all over again. The very last time he set foot in this damn pharmacy, he'd been cornered about his relationship.

_ That _ memory brought the faint crease to his brow, and it sat in his stomach alongside the rest of the butterflies.

It was here that... he'd first thought of this thing between them as a relationship. He... knew why at that point, but to put a word to it, an actual  _ name _ _,_ it... felt big. Clumsy, at the time.

It felt good.

Qrow let his fingers curl, feeling rings press into skin. “It's, ah... it's Clover.”

The silence draped the three of them, and save for the gentle hum of machinery and computers, it lingered. Pietro could only smile warmly at him as the soft breath escaped him. As his gaze followed the huntsman, his mind settled onto much the same thoughts as Maria; the boy had obviously been through quite a lot in his life, but the difference between when they first met to now...

Why, it was like looking at two separate people.

It seemed he'd taken his advice after all, too, and he couldn't be more proud of him. Proud of them both, really. He couldn't speak for the huntsman himself, but he knew just how hard Clover worked; knew how much of himself he dedicated to the twin cities and her people. Finding someone to spend his time with was probably the biggest breath of fresh air he'd had in years.

And it really had been as clear as day the last time he saw the two of them – the boy was smitten with Qrow, and the smile he wore around this huntsman was as warm as the sunshine itself. The sort of thing that couldn't be faked in any way, despite his usually cheery appearance.

No, what these two had was genuine, and he was utterly glad that there was someone in this world Clover was able to share himself with.

As for Maria herself, she could only blink wide eyes up at him, lips parting faintly in surprise. Well now, that was...

Oh.

“Isn't he the one who arrested you?”

The gentle huff fell from the huntsman at her rather abrupt summation. “I mean, when you put it that way...” he murmured, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Well, he  _ did _ _.”_ She rounded on Pietro. “And going by  _ your  _ lack of reaction, you knew about this! And you  _ didn't _ tell me! Unbelievable!” The huff of a sigh fell from her, and she shook her head. “These kids abandon me for a few weeks – not even a  _ month! _ – and this troublemaker here goes and shackles himself to the captain of the Ace Operatives. Weren't you  _ complaining _ about the law not five minutes ago?”

Qrow felt his hackles rise a little at the turning of the tide, and he pointed a finger towards her.

“Hey, first of all, neither of us are  _ shackled _ to anyone,” he started. “Secondly, he-”

“Well, that ring says otherwise.”

The simple words from the woman shut down whatever sharp retort had been sitting on his tongue, and he realised belatedly that he'd used the absolute  _ wrong _ hand to point at her.

Maria gave a faint snort. “I'm old, not blind, you know.”

And her eyesight was as sharp as ever, too. Of course. He withdrew his hand almost absently, feeling whatever ire was left in his shrivel up and vanish. Gods above, now he'd really done it.

“Mm, I was wondering when we'd get to that,” Pietro added, casting his gaze from Maria to the little addition on Qrow's hand. He extended his own out to the huntsman, beckoning gently. “You don't mind if I take a gander?”

Qrow felt hesitation crawl through his stomach, and fingers curled a little, unconsciously wanting to keep it right where it was. He already felt so utterly attached to it, and he remembered with fervent clarity how fiercely protective he'd been of the first one he received. Even after all these years, that simple band of silver still sat upon his finger, no matter how many scrapes or dents or gouges it took.

Even if one of those gouges had been from his own doing.

He glanced down at the rings adorning his fingers, and bit off his own hesitation before it could form. He was just letting the man inspect it. Nothing more. Slipping it from his finger, he stepped forward and placed it in that waiting palm, already missing the new weight upon skin.

It... felt so strange to be without it already.

He really was in love, just as Maria had said, he realised as warmth crept through his stomach.

“Goodness, but I haven't seen you in years...”

The almost absent murmur from the man caught Qrow's ears immediately, and red eyes ducked from the ring back to the scientist.

Years..?

Pietro was turning it over in his hand, holding it up to the light as his brow furrowed. In the stark fluorescence of the room, it almost glinted despite the dull shine it wore in some parts. After a moment, he tapped the side of his glasses before readjusting them, and brought the ring closer; a faint glimmer of a diode lighting up in his frames.

“Ha, it's you alright!” he exclaimed proudly, holding the ring out for Maria to inspect in much the same way.

“You..?” Qrow breathed gently, a little lost. What the hell was the old man seeing that he hadn't?

“Maria, kindly tell me what insignia you see on the inside of that ring,” the scientist answered far too proudly. The woman turned the little piece of jewellery over in her fingers, he other hand reaching up to adjust her optics a little. After a moment of staring, her own brow furrowed.

“Garden... of... E-” She cut herself off, a dawning look of realisation crossing her expression as she straightened once more. “Oh. Well that's a surprise and a half.” She handed it back to Qrow, and he was caught staring between the two of them and the thick band of silver in his hand.

“Y'know, it'd be nice to know what's so interesting.” Red eyes were already turning it over, trying to find the insignia they'd mentioned.

“Tell me, Qrow... have you ever heard much talk about the silversmiths in Mistral? Specifically, Argus?” Pietro began.

The huntsman snorted at him, looking away from the ring. “In Mistral? Only that they're the most prominent in the world. Their craft is the best of the best, as far as jewellery is concerned, and you can find it all the way over in Vacuo if you know what to look for.” A beat of time, and the penny suddenly smacked him right between the eyes. “Wait, you mean this came from Argus? How can you-”

There was a knowing nod from the scientist towards the ring, and Qrow was looking even harder at it now.

“Mm, something tells me you didn't do your homework,” the old man chuckled at him. “ _ Nor _ did you ask that boy about it. My, but young love can be blinding sometimes.” Qrow brushed the comment aside as he caught sight of the insignia, stamped right behind where the golden clover sat, and his eyes narrowed as he brought it up to them.

He felt something in his chest still as he caught sight of the fine lettering, and darted his gaze up to the old man, surprise wreathing his very expression. That...

That name couldn't be right.

He couldn't help himself, and after a heartbeat, dropped his gaze down to the ring again, watching it glint back at him from his palm. In a stunning punch of clarity to the face, he  _ remembered  _ seeing that sign for the shop in Argus; could picture the lettering for it so precisely as they wandered through the city one morning. Gods above, Nora almost  _ bought something _ from the damn place.

That would mean Clover...

Pietro watched him jump through his mental hurdles, that mind working furiously behind red eyes, but knowing he'd have to fill in some of the blanks. He folded his arms across his chest, leaving one hand to gesture lightly at the little band.

“As you  _ might _ be aware, we have a lot of tech here in Atlas and Mantle,” the scientist began. “And a majority of that tech uses silver as part of its construction. It makes for a rather wonderful conductor in circuitry, without all the silly hassle of it oxidising and corroding – particularly this far north. I deal quite a lot with the silversmiths in Mistral to get the amounts and the quality I need, but you could say I'm rather partial to those in Argus.”

He paused for a moment, letting his own gaze settle on the ring.

“There's one silversmith in particular there that has become, well... somewhat of a good friend of mine, and we go way back.”

Pietro settled further back into his chair, faint smile dancing behind his beard.

“I was with her on the day her son graduated with honours, as part of the official proceedings and presentations, and she couldn't have been happier for him,” came the gentle words, memories playing behind his eyes. The soft brush of laughter fell from him, and he plucked his glasses from his nose, absently wiping them clean. “Daisy was as proud as punch of her little boy, and thanks to her profession she knew the best way possible to show him how much his achievement meant to her.”

The words were like a gentle tidal wave as they settled upon Qrow's ears, and he was rather rapidly sorting out the thread of implications they were weaving for him. If what he was hearing was correct, then while they were all in Argus he would've almost met... Red eyes had widened as Pietro finished telling his tale, and lips parted in silent shock. The ring was given to him as a gift, and Clover...

Clover had been...

The static was resounding sharply in his ears as he found his gaze slowly trailing back to the ring. Whatever words were coming from the two of them in their own discussion seemed lost to him, and he slumped back against the edge of the desk, wringing the faint startle from Maria, thinking he'd all but fainted on the spot.

He couldn't keep his eyes off the innocent band of silver as it glinted back at him. It explained... it explained  _ so much ... _

Why its surface was so dull. Why it seemed to bear a lifetime of scuffs that had been meticulously polished out. Why there was a delicate scratch along the edge, almost invisible without careful attention.

It wasn't new at all.

He'd been wearing it ever since he graduated.

And without a moment of hesitation, had gifted it to the huntsman.

_ So... now... you get to keep a little bit of all of us with you. _

Qrow felt something seize in his chest as he could do nothing but stare down at it, and with startling clarity, realised that he hadn't taken a breath. It shuddered through him, dragging through his lungs as fingers carefully closed about the ring, lest it fall to the ground with the faint tremor that began to trickle through him.

“Goodness, are you alright?”

It was Maria's hand upon his arm that startled him back to the present, and red eyes blinked a little too rapidly back at her. He was breathing like he'd just been in a sparring match, short and sharp, as realisation coursed through him.

“He... he never told me...” he breathed, finding the first fracture of a smile reaching his expression. The old woman could only mirror that softly broken smile he wore, and found her own heart warming at the sight of him. Yes, it really was plain to see that he was utterly in love with someone.

Her other hand reached for fingers curled so carefully about that ring, and she squeezed it firmly.

“You know, when I first lost my eyes, I realised how  _ much  _ I missed the ability to see things,” she started softly, drawing her hand back to gently coax those fingers open. “And I  _ might  _ still be a little annoyed about that, since telling some shades of blue apart is  _ still _ a pain in the ass-”

“Ah, we're still working on that a little. Who knew sea green was so different to cyan?” Pietro offered with an apologetic smile.

Qrow felt the soft huff of a laugh fall from him as she sighed to herself, plucking the ring delicately from his hand.

“ _ But, _ I'll tell you one thing I can see as plain as day.”

She turned it over in her fingers for a moment, almost admiring it. With a gentle movement, she turned his hand over, delicately sliding it back into place. Safe and sound. Back where it belonged.

“No matter what  _ this  _ means to either of you-” she patted his hand gently from where she held it, “-it doesn't hold a candle to what started it all, up here.” Maria lifted her hand to poke Qrow squarely in the chest. She waited until his eyes had drawn back up to meet hers, and she was glad to see some of his skittering emotion had settled.

The sight of this man dancing around his own feelings was sweet, even if he was a little dense about it.

“You know, when I first met you, you were a bit of a mess,” she continued.

The huntsman baulked a little at being so bluntly addressed, and he opened his mouth to reply. He was cut off as she thwapped his hand lightly, and he snapped his jaw closed once more.

“You still are,” she added sharply, ruffling his feathers further. “But whatever the two of you have stumbled across, it's given you... something to strive for. It's like an... I don't know; you've got a spark in your soul again. A warmth that I haven't seen before. Any idiot can see that.” There was a moment of hesitation from the old woman, and the huntsman almost thought she had finished if it weren't for the soft shake of her head, and the dulling of her smile.

“Qrow, I may not know a lot about you, but I've learnt to read people over the years. And in the short time I  _ have _ known you, I've come to realise something,” she drew both her hands about his delicately, contemplating the back of his hand. “You've never  _ had  _ something like this. Or at the very least, not for many, many years. And the vast depth of it is scaring the life out of you.”

He was utterly glad that her focus was on anything else aside from his expression, because she would have seen immediately the way he drew a silent breath, concern tinting his eyes as his brow pinched at her words.

How damn right she was.

“But you're a good person, through and through, no matter your faults,” she pressed on, squeezing his hand as her smile returned once more. “Clover can obviously see that, too. I mean... aside from the whole 'arresting you' thing, I'm sure.” The soft chuckle fell from her, and she shook her head lightly. “You don't give your heart easily to others; I understand that, really, I do. It's a messy business to let someone else in and have them fuss around with your feelings.”

Maria brought her eyes up to the huntsman, drawing one hand up to place it upon his cheek, even if it was a bit of a stretch.

“I may be old and blind, but I can tell – vividly – the difference it's already made in your life.” The gentle words settled softly over him, and it brought to his chest a warmth that he didn't realise had been wanting to break through. His breath left him silently, the vague note of tension slipping free from between his shoulders.

“And a token like this is simply that – a token. But it's the _feeling_ behind it that counts more than where it came from, or how long it's been around in this world. It's the person who gave it to you that matters the most,” she pressed on. The woman gave him a delicate pat to his cheek, and a persuasive little pull to his hand.

Qrow graciously took the hint regarding their height differences, and he lowered himself to one knee as she wrapped her arms about him, giving him a firm squeeze. For a tiny old woman, she still carried a rather impressive strength, and he found the faint smile gracing his expression once more. Yet... even if he'd been expecting it, it still didn't stop him from hesitating a little before returning the embrace.

He was... slowly getting used to strangers and random people hugging him, even if it still felt odd.

“And besides, if I were forty years younger, I'd want him to arrest me too,” she stated without a lick of hesitation. Qrow all but seized up in her arms as colour raced along his neck, red eyes widening at the blunt words as she chuckled across his shoulder. He'd long since known she held no remorse about anything that came out of her mouth, and the soft snort of laughter fell from him, letting it run its course through his shoulders until the sound was spilling free from his lips.

“Well, sorry to burst your bubble there,” he replied as his mirth tapered off. He gave her a gentle squeeze before drawing back, smile easy on his expression. “Guess I just got lucky for a change.”

“Lucky? Ha!” Maria rolled her eyes at him. “You just won the lottery seven times over, kiddo!”

Her words were lost to her as she laughed sharply at her own joke, and Qrow could do nothing but shake his head lightly, ignoring the gentle flush of colour that gathered at his collar.

“I mean, if _that_ was the case, I'd-”

The sudden blare of a siren outside cut him off, and he snapped his gaze over to the door as he stood. The city defence system had just kicked in, and he was already darting to the door, everything else pushed to the wayside.

“Wait!” Pietro called, and he grabbed the doorframe to stop himself in time. The scientist was already at a terminal by the time he'd turned around, and fingers were rapidly tapping at keys as he scoured the system. “Looks like the alarm started in the south-east; a few blocks south of here at the wall, but...”

Pietro's fingers flew over the keys as he brought up screen after screen; the surveillance system for the area popping into life around him.

“Come on, I gotta move here,” Qrow snapped, aggravation already nipping at him over a potential delay.

He frowned as he locked onto the one he was after, and whipped his gaze up to the huntsman.

“It's on the other side of the wall, due south, but there's already-”

“Good enough for me,” Qrow cut him off sharply, bolting from his place. He took off for the roof once more, all but shouldering the door open and sprinting into the sunlight.

There was a burst of black feathers and the raven peeled into the sky without hesitation, scattering the startled birds out of it's way as wings beat a heady pace towards the commotion. The alarm below kept screaming in it's senses, nearly deafening it, and red eyes were already scouring what little it could see over the wall.

It couldn't see anything too clearly yet, and with the constant noise from below, there was no telling what kind of Grimm was out there. If the bird had the ability, it would have snarled to itself in frustration as it flew as fast as it could to the source.

Wheeling over the wall, it gave a passing glance to the world below it, and found utterly nothing.

No Grimm, no signs of a fight, no-

The bird gave a terrified squawk, diving sharply as a miniature rocket screamed past it, nearly singeing feathers as it exploded somewhere behind it. Heart in it's beak, it swooped low to the ground, finally spying the culprit a few hundred yards away, on the edge of the tundra.

Whoever had taken up the fight first had found themselves completely surrounded by a rather decent pack of Manticores, and the raven was beating wings fiercely to make up for lost ground. Young ones, too, from the lack of wings on them. It was hoping –  _really_ hoping – the shot had been a misplaced strike and not someone actively aiming for it. The bird vanished in a burst of black feathers, and Qrow was left to sprint across the snowy land.

His hand was already curling about Harbinger, and he hastily lined up the shotgun as boots crunched across the icy ground. A few potshots was all it took for the Grimm to snap shaggy heads up, roaring their anger at this newcomer, and a couple of them peeled away from the wayward strikes of an overly large hammer.

For a heartbeat of time, Qrow almost thought it was Nora out in the middle of them, but the colour of the outfit suggested otherwise. It was followed by a raucous cry as the huntress smashed through one of the creatures, sending it skywards as it vanished to dust.

Elm turned, briefly glancing over her shoulder, and grinning broadly as the huntsman sprinted towards her.

“Come to join the fun, have you?” she cried, deftly pivoting out of the way as a Manticore barrelled past her. That savage tail tip sung past her face, and with a vicious twirl of Timber, smashed it into the ground before it zipped away, rendering it useless.

The creature howled in pain, immediately retaliating by twisting about and raking claws towards her. She leapt back out of it's range, following with a sharp uppercut to the creature's jaw. It stumbled in a daze, and she tossed Timber high into the air, grabbed it by the horns, and clenched hands about it hard enough to crack bone. Green energy sang about her feet, sinking deep into the snow, and with a ferocious cry, wrenched the Grimm from it's place and sent the beast sailing over her head.

She caught her weapon deftly, semblance vanishing as she started jogging towards Qrow, grin firmly across her entire expression.

“Seemed a shame to miss out!” the huntsman finally called to her, Harbinger slashing sharply in his fingers. A Manticore leapt at him, claws viciously extended, and with a short growl, his scythe spun into view. He drove it deep into the creature's chest from underneath, using it's own momentum to all but fling it away as it fell to ash.

He darted towards the woman, leaping high over her head as her weapon swept through the space he once stood. Timber caught the Grimm that pursued him square in the face, as Qrow raked Harbinger through the one bolting after Elm.

The huntsman landed, boots sliding to a short stop as he twirled Harbinger before him like a shield, red eyes sweeping over the remains of the pack. Elm brought her weapon up before her, allowing her own gaze to do the same as they stood back-to-back.

“Do they usually wander this close to Mantle during the day?” Qrow asked as they stalked about them, looking for openings and weaknesses in this fierce pair of fighters.

Elm tightened her fingers about Timber. “Not usually, but I managed to catch a rather nasty distress call over the comms,” she replied. “The boots on the ground said tensions got a  _little_ high. I spotted the pack from the wall, and the rest is history.”

Dark brows pinched. That would explain why the Grimm were attacking so close to the wall, and seemingly out of the blue. If there was enough negative emotion floating about, a younger pack of Grimm would have no hesitation in swarming towards it. But, at the very least, being a younger pack meant they were prone to being bold, which meant they would make careless mistakes and openings, no matter how many of them there were. 

Gods, there were still so many-

One roared at the huntsman, charging from his side, and Qrow sang Harbinger over his head, war scythe swiftly taking care of the beast. Another came from in front of Elm, and she smashed Timber upwards, dispatching it sharply. A third burst away from the pack, joined by a forth, roaring at the huntsman, and he slashed upwards at them, catching the first.

Elm ducked under the extended Harbinger, slamming her weapon directly into the side of the second one, and Qrow startled as she appeared in his vision. Without a second of hesitation, he whipped about to their exposed backs, broadsword collapsing into his hand once more as he slashed at another.

“Hey! Eyes forward!” he growled to her, a Manticore charging at him as he whipped up his weapon like a shield from those wickedly sharp horns, letting it smash headfirst into him, and he struggled against it's bulk for a few desperate seconds.

She laughed sharply at him. “That's what having a  _second_ pair of eyes is all about, Qrow!”

“No, it's not tha-!”

Red eyes darted skywards as he saw a Manticore leaping above the one he was grappling, careening towards him. With a fierce shove, he freed himself of his first target, kicking it swiftly in the jaw to daze it and managed to dive out of the way as the second smashed into the snow where he once stood, extended claws cracking deep into the ice beneath.

As he slid to a stop, down on one knee he instantly knew he was vulnerable, and he sprang back towards the two Grimm in a burst of speed, snow flicking off his clothing. He slashed through the first Manticore, returning it to ash. Claws raked towards him, and he almost dodged at the last second, driving Harbinger backhanded into it's side as a barbed tail ripped across his sleeve, luckily catching only only cloth.

In a heartbeat, the breath was smashed from him as he was charged from his blind side, and he was sent tumbling across the snow once more, skidding to a stop as Harbinger skittered from his hand.

Scrabbling to his feet, he snatched a hand back around the handle, letting Elm finish it off behind him. He'd been caught off-guard. The snarl was on his tongue; he could just about  _feel_ it humming in the air about him, and it sank under his skin.

Misfortune was trickling about them like so much delicate snowfall.

“We need to finish this! Fast!” he called, ignoring the way clods of snow still stuck to him. Ignoring the way his heart wanted to stay lodged in his throat at the thought.

“Why should we?” Elm laughed at him, almost casually smashing a Manticore into the air. “The fun's only just begun!”

She was either utterly oblivious, or she simply didn't care, and Qrow had no intention of gambling with either. Fingers tightened about Harbinger's handle in frustration, and he glanced over his shoulder, fending off another swipe from a furious Manticore. She was simply  _toying_ with these things, and he grit his teeth as he spun away from the creature's brute strength, raking along it's side and turning it to smoke.

He took in a steadying breath,  _needing_ to calm the flare of his own emotions; he had to, otherwise careless mistakes would cost them both.

Red eyes took in the rest of the pack before him. Gods above, was it  _really_ that scuffle in Mantle attracting them all to one spot? Initially, it had to be, and now with the two of them brawling in the centre of them, it was doing nothing but adding fuel to the fire.

It couldn't... gods, but he hoped he hadn't just brought this pack down upon them both, simply by  _being there._

Dark brows pinched sharply, and he darted forwards, towards the closest three.

Leaping high above vicious horns, the scythe carved downwards in a sudden arc, cleaving the creature in two. The blade rapidly retracted backwards as he hung in the air, and with a well-placed shot, dispatched of a second. Qrow landed alongside the third as it turned towards him, disoriented from the vanishing ash and the skywards leap. In a powerful thrust, he drove Harbinger straight through it's side.

He snapped his gaze upwards at the roar that bellowed from above, and he darted to the side as another Manticore smashed down onto the ice where he once stood, feeling the ground thrum and reverberate beneath him.

Qrow stilled in sudden recognition, knowing that solid ground should  _never_ quake like that under their feet, and he couldn't help the faint bead of fear that clung to the back of his throat.

Ice.

They were all standing on  _ice_ _._ Not solid ground  _at all._

Six more Manticores charged at him, and Elm could only react fast enough to catch one of them, smashing it backwards into another two on her side. The huntsman took a step backwards,  _really_ not liking all the potentials that were lining up.

Fingers creaked tightly about Harbinger's handle.

He didn't exactly have a damn choice though.

Sprinting from his place, and scythe extended in his hands, he charged for the first one, ready to strike.

He never even got the chance, as it vanished into dust, obliterated by a vicious blast of energy from above. He slid to a stop, boots kicking up the snow as his attention was pulled skywards.

From far above them, Penny was streaking downwards, blasting the remaining Manticores that had charged the huntsman. They vanished from sight in a flourish of ash, and she twirled easily in the air, coming to land heavily next to him and causing the ice to shudder once more. Qrow still couldn't help but tighten fingers about his weapon in response, his breath stilling in his chest at the same time.

“Apologies for the delay, I came as quickly as I could!” she beamed up at him with a crisp salute. “Rebooting my system takes a little while, and my download had to be interrupted as well!”

The sigh fell from him, and he was a little relieved for the assistance; another fighter meant they could wrap it up faster. “Sure thing, and uh, thanks,” he told her simply. “Just... take it easy on the landings; the ground here isn't so hot.”

Penny glanced about them, curious as to his words. “Well of course not, silly! This is the  _tundra!_ Why, a little further north, and you can find the start of the permafrost!”

Red eyes simply stared back at her for a moment as his mind ground to a screeching halt entirely. She didn't- Oh boy. The sigh fell from him as shoulders slumped a little, and he couldn't help the whisper of a smile that crossed his lips.

“I'll... explain it later,” he mumbled, reaching up to run a hand through his hair as those bright green eyes beamed up at him.

He suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, freezing with widened eyes as he felt the wind from her blades rip directly past him in a storm, nicking hair and clothing and spearing sharply into an approaching Manticore. With a dying howl at his back, the vicious weapons retracted past him once more, fanning out behind her like a peacock.

“I cannot wait!”

She jogged past him, happily taking to the pack with glee as the quiet breath slipped from him, finally feeling safe enough to move. Robotic precision, he had to remind himself. Highly trained, heavily calculated, robotic precision. She likely had far superior aim than anyone else he could name, but gods above and below, it still didn't stop him from seizing up entirely as those vicious knives zipped past him, a hairs breadth from destroying his everything.

Elm gave a sharp laugh from the other side of the pack as she smashed through another Manticore and sent it flinging skywards, and it shook him back to the present.

Right. Manticores. They had a job to finish.

And he leapt into the fray once more.


	26. Maladies and Misfortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The king has sent his daughter  
> To fetch a pail of water  
> A tissue, a tissue  
> We all fall down
> 
> The robin on the steeple  
> Is singing to the people  
> A tissue, a tissue  
> We all fall down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also comes with a narrated piece, and the link will be at the end to help avoid spoilers (even if technically there _are_ none within it). If you follow me on tumblr, chances are you've already heard it, but if not, it would mean a ton if you could take the time to check it out!
> 
> This chapter does contain a **brief depiction of gore/harm** , so please be warned!

Qrow never hesitated as he snapped Harbinger up before him, and with a blast of buckshot, took out the closest two Manticores. In a sprint, he took off to the side, fanning out away from the other two, and trailing some of the Grimm behind him, hearing them bellow their rage as they went.

The scythe extended into his hand with a flick, and as the first one closed on him, he jerked himself to a stop, squaring his stance and whipping the vicious blade straight down through it's neck. Wrenching the tip free from the ice, he flipped the blade in his hand, swinging upright as the second one leapt at him from atop it's vanishing brethren, cleaving it deftly it two.

Through the dissipating ash, another couple leapt towards him, and he jumped back as they landed hard where he once stood. A massive hammer smashed into the first one, and the second was simply shredded to obliteration as a series of wicked blades tore through it.

“Come on, loosen up a little!” Elm told him brightly as she slapped his shoulder, and it couldn't help but tug at Qrow's frustration somewhat.

He couldn't do that, not when it was already feeling so different. He'd taken too many hits, slid on the snow too many times, lost his concentration for too many snatches of time for this to simply be another fight.

No, he was starting to get  _worried._

He brought Harbinger up before him, red eyes tearing away from the jovial woman. “Have you even  _read_ my file?” he ground out. Qrow darted away to slash quickly at an approaching Manticore.

“Course I have! That's why I think you need to lighten up!”

She laughed brightly at him, swinging Timber in a wide arc about her and catching another two, smashing them away. A third was struck harshly, and she belted it towards the huntsman, barely giving him enough time to spin Harbinger before him like a buzzsaw and carve himself free from it's falling bulk.

_“Hey!_ _”_ he bit sharply. Oh she did that on  _purpose._

Elm thumbed her nose lightly at him, grinning broadly, and he bit back the hiss on his tongue. Fine. She could have her fun, and he turned red eyes on the third member of their team.

Penny was all but dancing with the Grimm she fought. Bending fluidly out of harm's way, boosting and leaping like the fight was simply a ballet, and dispatching them with a catlike grace that almost put Blake to shame. It was nearly hard to believe she was anything other than completely human with the perfectly acrobatic display.

All with a smile upon her face.

The breath of a sigh slipped from him, and he flicked Harbinger back to a broadsword, focusing once more on the remainder of the pack before them. Only about ten or so. Penny looked like she could hold her own, and with this amount, and it would be nothing for himself and Elm to dispatch of the rest.

He took off in a charge, hearing the woman bellow sharply as she belted Timber through a Manticore. Blade in hand, he struck upwards at one, slashing it deftly across the neck as he passed, and sinking it deep into the second on the way down. Before it could dissipate, the bulk of the Grimm was bodily shoved towards him, as a wayward strike from Elm sent one of hers careening into his, and his feet slid out from under him.

Qrow hissed sharply as the back of his head whacked against the ice, and he slowly pushed himself back up, all thoughts of rapid movement lost to him. His senses tilted a little around him as he gingerly reached up to touch the tender spot on his head; he was going to have a hell of a welt, that was for sure. The sharp cry of his name rang through the air and he whipped his gaze to the side.

Red eyes widened and he barely had a chance to scrabble backwards in the snow; a Manticore leaping straight towards him. There was a blast of green energy that scorched across it's back, winging it and sending it crashing down next to him with a sickening crunch, kicking snow towards him.

It was the final stroke of the hammer that sent the dominoes crashing to the ground.

The ice shuddered underneath him, and he'd barely drawn a breath when the thunderous crack echoed into the sky. The snow danced upwards from the ground as it vibrated from deep beneath him and the ice began to fracture between them all. Qrow twisted sharply on the ground in a moment of heady panic, scrambling back as fast as he could through the snow and  _slamming_ the tip of his scythe into the ice for purchase, as far as he could reach before-

Gravity pitched underneath him, and he was suddenly kneeling on  _nothing_ as the ice gave way entirely. It tumbled and boomed all the way into the cavernous hollow beneath him, his hold on Harbinger slipping almost entirely as he clenched remaining fingers about it tight enough to snap the metal. Snow and chunks of ice were tossed and flung about him with the shuddering of the earth, and he clenched his eyes shut as it was strewn past him into the open maw of the cavern.

Gods above, it  _wasn't_ a frozen lake beneath their feet.

It was part of the old Mantle excavation tunnels, ones that extended deep into the earth, outwards from the centre of that blight of a mining pit, ferrying the miners back and forth.

He really, _really_ _hated_ the Schnee Dust Company right at that moment.

With the cracking of the ice above it, the cavity above it had completely collapsed. It sent fractured and twisted chunks of rail and sleepers and ice and abandoned train cars deep into nothingness, echoing thunder into the sky as they crashed and tumbled and settled far beyond where he could see.

The tunnels criss-crossed almost haphazardly below him, and he had to wonder idly how  _long_ it had all been left abandoned like this. Left to rot under the ice of Mantle. Gods, how could it deteriorate the stability of the land so quickly?

He resisted the urge to huff from his precarious position. Well. He  _knew_ , and he didn't like the answer any less. Jacques had a lot to answer for, and this was just another tick on the page. The man seemed to all but abandon anything as soon as it was obvious there would be no profit in it for him, and he  _did_ roll his eyes at that notion.

Qrow was, however, counting his lucky stars as he dangled far above the open maw of ice, letting the sigh of a breath leave him. If he were on his own, it would be no trouble at all to simply drop, transform, and fly his way back out, but with his present company, he'd rather  _not_ deal with the suddenly influx of questions. It meant his only option was to pull himself delicately up on Harbinger, all whilst trying not to dislodge it from the ice, or further collapse the damn cliff he was embedded against.

He brought his other hand up, gingerly curling fingers about the handle. As his weight shifted, so too did Harbinger, and he was jolted lightly as it creaked free a little. The hiss left his lips as it settled, and he vaguely registered the call of his name from above.

Red eyes focused sharply on Elm as she poked her head over the lip of the icy cliff, smirking down at him.

“Not what I meant by loosen up, Branwen,” she laughed at him, chin propped into her upturned hand. Qrow could only scowl at her.

“Just gimme a hand,” he ground out, straining lightly as he delicately pulled himself up a little, one hand extending up past Harbinger.

She could only chuckle at him, reaching out for his hand. This was  _not_ how he envisioned his day going, that was for sure. Across from the two of them, Penny cried out, and Elm barely had time to duck; wincing as a sudden thwip of a blade sang across her back, barely missing her uniform.

There was a blistering yowl from behind the woman, and the thud of a Manticore hitting the ice. Qrow sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the vibration run through his arms, and he glanced over at the girl; Penny looking at the tips of her blades as confusion ran across her face. She perked when she saw the two of them staring back at her.

“Apologies, Elm! For some reason my laser array would not activate! I hope I didn't cut you!”

Qrow felt the heavy way those words sat in his stomach and he bit back the curse on his tongue. Another thing. It was just _another_ little thing in a whole series of events since the fight began.

He closed red eyes as he forcibly cut off the thoughts. He could stew on it all later. For now, though, Penny was-

He darted his gaze back up to her as the thought struck him out of the blue.

Wait,  _she_ could fly.

“Penny!” Qrow called to her, and those green eyes turned back towards him. “Hey, can you-”

_“Penny, move!”_

Elm's voice flew out above him, and the girl barely had a chance to glance over her shoulder as a Manticore smashed into her from behind. One of those vicious horns drove straight through her arm in a glittering burst of circuitry and tearing fabric, and her startled scream ripped across the tundra. The force of the impact sent her careening towards the edge of the immense fissure, snow trenching about her as she slid to a stop, a hand hanging loose over the edge.

_“Penny!!_ _”_ Qrow's heart seized in his throat and he jerked hard on Harbinger. There was a groaning creak from the ice about the two of them, and his weapon suddenly snapped free from where it was embedded. The huntsman immediately dropped, weightless for a heartbeat, until a hand fisted sharply into fabric of his cloak, jerking him to a stop.

It wrenched his shirt firmly about his neck, and he whipped his free hand up behind him, grabbing blindly at his cloak until he was also holding it, giving himself enough room to breathe. With a strained snarl, he whipped the muzzle of Harbinger up to the Manticore that had attacked the girl, blasting it smartly and sending it back to ash.

“Let me go! Now!” he yelled upwards, eyes still firmly on the fallen girl. Gods, she wasn't _moving._

She'd dropped to the snow like a stone, completely still, and it did  _nothing_ to help the terror that stormed through him, his heart firmly lodged in his throat. Gods, but he  _knew_ this fight felt awful for a reason. He  _knew_ it, and still he allowed himself to stay and fight.

He'd been taunting fate for far too long and this was their gods-damned reward.

“Are you crazy?” Elm cried at him, dragging him upwards.

He couldn't-

He all but writhed within the tight hold Elm had on him, legs kicking out in an attempt to get her to drop him.

He had to get to Penny.  _Had to._ He didn't care  _who knew_ about his transformation at this point.

“Just _do it!”_

_“No you idiot!”_

He gave a sudden snarl of defiance, compacting Harbinger swiftly in his hand and wrenching it up to his cloak, ready to slash it free. He never got the chance, as the ice about them gave another groaning shudder from his jerking movement, and the echoing  _crack_ thundered deep around them.

The opening of the fissure gave way entirely, and the world plummeted from beneath the two of them, ice and snow cascading down alongside them as they dropped towards the tunnels beneath. Red eyes darted upwards and the curse was ripe on his tongue as he saw Penny slide in with them, all but lifeless in her tumble through the sheen of falling icy debris.

She wasn't-

Gods, but she  _couldn't_ be-

He  _couldn't have-_

The scream of his name from Elm, and he was suddenly wrenched above and behind her. He flailed his limbs at the somewhat ungainly shove as the ice rushed up to meet them, the wind from their freefall tearing through hair and clothing, vaguely aware that she'd slung Timber over her shoulder. There was a blast of searing heat from the weapon as she fired, and he barely had the chance to clench his eyes shut from the white-hot burn of light that erupted from it.

He couldn't fly out, there was no way to do so and protect the others at the same time. Couldn't stop any of it, couldn't save-

He opened red eyes again as he felt a hand fist into his shirt front, and could barely draw a breath as an icy chunk of vivid blue flooded his vision, and a crack of pain belted him in the forehead, sending him careening back into darkness.

***

The dreams were never the same.

But the feeling surrounding them always stayed true.

He would run in faltering steps from whatever terrors had taken pursuit, wrenching from his chest a blind fear that sunk its teeth deep into skin and bone.

He would be the one taking flight after his quarry, watching the whites of their eyes as he bore down upon them with vicious glee.

He would struggle and writhe, fighting for his very life in panicked thrashes of attacks, sending Harbinger searing through the air, blade singing death to any that approached.

But it was the loss that devastated him, time and time again, leaving him crumpled to the floor, sobs wracking his frame, breathless from the exertion of pure emotion and unable to move. It was the loss that always haunted him, shadowing his heels like a black dog and slithering about his ankles in the midday sun.

It was in dreams that nightmares came true, and he saw the eyes of all who turned their piteous gaze to him.

They watched this wretched creature, broken and haunted, each one a testament to his failures, and one by one they all turned their eyes away. One by one, they all returned to the darkness to leave him, shattered and alone, with nothing save his grief.

Nothing.

Save for the twist of the knife at yet another promise broken, another life lost, another  _mistake_ to add to the ever-growing pile of shame.

It was with silver eyes that lingered on this sorry sight, that the last figure slipped into nothingness, and the only sound that remained was that of his own doing, shaky and gasping.

Yet somehow, by some merciful stroke of the hammer, his dreams had begun to shift.

Where once was darkness and a barren hollow of despair, there now existed a simple light.

An insignificant little thing.

Unassuming, and faint.

It was a mere flicker of a candle flame, and like a moth in the night, it was a very beacon that called to him. It rang out in heady peals that clutched at his soul, and like the raucous clanging of a church bell, violently shook the demons from his tree. It rattled them fiercely on their way down, and in their tumbling wake, left him shaking in his own thoughts, collapsing about the flame when they finally hit the ground.

Hands shook as they curled about it, not wanting to touch, not wanting to snuff, not wanting to believe his luck.

But the warmth of it sank deep into skin. It settled into his bones, and felt its light stave the chill from his back. Felt it blissfully scroll about him with something that had long since been absent from his dreams.

How long had he stayed with the little light, curled up alongside it, almost about it entirely, red eyes mesmerised by its glow and lost to its gentle flicker as it warmed his chest. Fingers wanted to touch, and fingers wanted to hold, but he knew so deeply that to do so would bring it to its end.

To do so would mean to lose it once more.

So fingers curled close enough to burn, seeking warmth and staving the cold as red eyes watched, mesmerised by its glow.

Letting the heat and light drip into his very soul.

Dripping, dripping.

Dripping...

… dripping.

***

The dripping wouldn't stop.

Dark brows pinched faintly as the noise resounded in his head like a thunderstorm, and even that small action had the breath of a murmur slipping from him. Everything about him just  _hurt_ and his head was utterly throbbing.

Eyelids fluttered open softly, finding a sharp glow slipping through his senses like an icepick to the brain, and he closed them again with a sigh across dry lips. Fingers curled from where he lay, yet there was no warmth to soothe him. No gentle light to guide him and warm his chest against.

No, it was cold against his side, and he was aware of the frigid metal that his head lay against, chilling his skin.

His sense of hearing vaguely filtered back in as the world collected about him in a hazy wash, and it only made his head hurt even more. Something crackled about him, soft snaps echoing in the otherwise deathly silence that surrounded him.

Fingernails scraped along metal as they curled, and he opened his eyes once more, ignoring the throbbing sear it brought him.

And still the dripping continued.

For a moment, sight was lost to him as he stared hazily into the bright light of the simple fire he lay nearby, and his foggy mind registered it as the source of the sounds. He blinked sluggishly, swallowing against a dry throat and taking a softer breath. Alright, well... he felt like he'd been sat on by a Wyvern, but he needed to know just  _how_ hurt he was.

His fingers felt fine, and he shifted himself further, curling a little into himself and gingerly feeling joints protest from cold, but otherwise stay true. Good. Nothing twisted, nothing broken, and the sigh of vague relief left him. What had... even happened?

He remembered the Grimm. Manticores. He remembered Elm laughing as she almost toyed with them. Remembered the ice opening up beneath him. And he remembered-

“Penny!” the croak of a word shot from him and he sat bolt upright, fear clutching through him and for a heartbeat, smothering his senses.

He regretted it almost immediately when the wave of nausea smashed through him, and fingers curled weakly across his mouth as he flopped back to the ground. The room swam about him as he lay there, adrenaline spiking through the churning of his stomach like a rollercoaster.

Oh he did  _not_ like that feeling.

“Well, look who's awake.”

The gentle voice sounded more like a jackhammer to his skull, and he glanced over to the side, spying Elm on the other side of the makeshift fire. She stood up, wandering over to crouch next to him, and placed a hand to his forehead. He bit back the wince at the light pressure.

“You took quite a hit to the noggin! Thought we lost you for a bit,” she laughed softly, and red eyes drifted away from her. Not that he didn't want to talk, but the level of volume she was putting out was almost catastrophic for his head, no matter how gentle she was trying to be.

It was only when the world stopped swimming that he realised their surroundings. It was... one of the old train cars, going by the shapes about him. At the very least it explained the metal and the windows. And if there was a fire, it more than likely came from the sleepers that ran under the rail lines themselves.

Which meant they were still in the cavern.

It also meant that Elm was one hell of a resourceful lady when it came to making sure they were relatively safe and cozy down in their little shelter.

Red eyes closed and he lowered his hand to his stomach.

Just their luck...

“... Penny... is she-?”

Her hand slipped from his forehead, settling about his shoulder, warm and soothing, and he was surprised by the strength he could feel in her grip.

“Little lady's doing just fine, honestly,” came the simple response, and he languidly rolled his head towards the fire once more, watching flickering embers. “Seems she's put herself into some sort of stasis, likely due to the damage.”

Qrow let her words settle over him, the same way his stomach started to settle from the wave of nausea that gripped him, and the breath slipped from him. Penny was... she was fine. It was something that was ridiculously relieving and utterly devastating for him all at once.

Due to the damage, Elm had said.

She would have always  _been_ fine if he hadn't-

If he wasn't there to...

Fingers pressed to the cold metal, and he pushed himself slowly up once more, fighting back the urge to be sick as his skull throbbed in time with his heart. Elm slipped a hand behind his shoulders, helping him upright, and he forced himself to take even breaths as he sat there for a moment, one hand curled about his stomach, waiting for it to pass.

His sluggish mind slowly began to turn, and as he sat there, began to take stock of what symptoms he had, rather than simply think about how much he wanted to be sick. He had a hell of a headache, and it throbbed viciously in his skull, aching where he was struck. His vision swam a little here and there, and even though he was only sitting, the disorientation and vertigo were wreaking havoc on his senses.

But it was the nausea that concerned him the most. He hated the feeling at the best of times, yet now it simply brought back memories he'd rather have left stuffed inside a box.

He didn't miss the nauseating feeling of a hangover at  _all._

He took in a slow and steady breath, fingers curling lightly at his stomach. Alright, so he had a hell of a concussion. He'd been through worse and lived.

Red eyes flicked down, realising he'd had most of his many layers pulled from him, leaving him in his white shirt and pants, with a cloak strewn across his lap. At least that explained why he felt cooler than usual, and he glanced up at the woman. Elm, too, was without her jacket, and dark brows pinched, taking in more of their surroundings. Harbinger and Timber lay together to one side, at the ready, just in case. Missing articles of clothing were hung near the fire to dry.

Still dripping.

He focused his gaze on them, and the question was still air on his tongue as Elm followed him.

“Couldn't have either of us laying around in wet clothes,” she shrugged. It did nothing to answer anything, and his focus swam as he drew his eyes back to her, red flicking between hers as brows furrowed in silent questioning. “You... don't remember landing, do you?”

He shook his head lightly, making the throb echo in his head, and he wet his lips lightly.

“I remember... you firing, and then...” he trailed off, bringing fingers up to brush along his forehead. He was almost surprised to find a makeshift bandage about his head, and in hindsight realised Elm wasn't wearing her usual red sash. “I... saw the ice, then... nothing.”

Elm sat down alongside him properly, still keeping her hand between his shoulders. The huntsman was still incredibly unstable and woozy after his crack to the skull,  _that_ much was obvious; she really didn't want the poor thing to drop like a stone next to her and hit his head  _again._

“Well, I made us a cozy little pool to fall into,” she explained simply. Qrow let his gaze settle to the floor as he ran the words and fuzzy memories through his head.

“... the explosion melted the ice,” he breathed in simple understanding. She gave a short laugh, the sound skittering between his ears.

“You catch on fast.”

She patted him gently, and he realised she was a hell of a lot quicker than he'd been. It was a risky move, but a quickly calculated one. She... reacted without thinking, in such a way that neither of them would be hurt, and he...

He'd done nothing but blindly fall along with them all, mind caught in a panic.

Caught up in how he'd failed them both.

Dark brows furrowed and red eyes closed, letting his fingers run across them tiredly. Gods, but he was exhausted. Physically and emotionally, he was utterly drained, and all he wanted to do was curl up alongside the fire and fall into a blissful slumber.

But he knew he couldn't do that, not when there were things to be done.

“Where is she?”

The simple breath slipped from him, and he brought his gaze up languidly to the woman. She nodded behind her, across the fire to where she once sat, and she smiled warmly at him.

“Had her by my side the whole time; don't worry your pretty little head,” she told him. “Only really stepped away to grab some firewood and scout around a little, but I stayed within sight of you two.”

Her cheerful words did nothing to lift the cloud that had settled upon him, even if his shoulders had relaxed somewhat. He closed his eyes, weariness flooding through his with the action, and the sigh fell from him unbidden. The soft pat came to his shoulder and he tried to ignore the way it made aching muscles hurt all the more.

“Hey now, lighten up a little. Help's on it's way, after all.”

Qrow brow went upwards, something about that phrase not sitting right in his stomach. His gaze ducked away to the sight of clothing still drying by the fire and something in his chest tightened all the way to his throat. They'd been completely doused, according to Elm, and whilst they were still dripping, parts of the fabric here and there were bone dry.

“How... long have we been down here?” he breathed, knowing the answer wouldn't be one he liked at all. Elm gestured dismissively in front of her, the nonchalant sound slipping from her lips.

“Maybe two hours or so, give or take. Honestly? It's been kind of boring.”

With the casual air of her words, Qrow could do nothing but stare back at her, blinking almost owlishly for a moment. He turned his gaze to the outside of their makeshift shelter, and from what he could see through the dim light, they were either a decent way down in the tunnels, or it was getting dark outside.

His mind skittered over the possibilities at an almost rapid pace, and he lowered his gaze once more. All things considered, they'd been... very lucky to wind up where they did. Elm obviously had her head on straight when it came to survival skills, and aside from a few bruises and scrapes and a  _concussion_ , they both appeared fine.

It was Penny that-

He closed his eyes, forcing his mind to stay on track. If she was in a stand-by mode of any sorts, it either meant she was conserving power, or her systems had forced had forced her offline so as not to damage them further. It was handy, if not a little terrifying to think about.

It meant she was  _fine_ _._ Just... sleeping it off. Like he had.

Just sleeping.

And not-

Brows pinched, shelving the rest of his thoughts for the moment. But if Elm was right, it meant they still had a little bit of a wait before they'd all be out of there. He resisted the urge to let the sigh slip from him, and he dropped his hands to his lap, shoulders relaxing a little.

He was going to miss his date, he realised with a faint smile.

The silence settled over them, save for the crackling of the fire, and Qrow opened his mouth to continue before there was a sharp bolt of laughter from Elm, shattering the quiet. He darted his startled gaze to her, realising her eyes were firmly on him. The woman couldn't get her words out as she stared back at him, and had to stand up, walking away for a moment, shaking her head a little.

_“That's_ your only priority?” she laughed heartily at him, the raucous sound of her voice all but echoing around them.

There was a moment of stunning clarity, and red eyes widened impossibly, matching the stampeding colour that immediately raced across his cheeks.

He'd said-

Oh gods above.

He'd said it  _out loud._

Qrow wanted to shrink into the ground, just wanted the ice to open up underneath him and swallow him whole again. He must've hit his head harder than he thought, because he was slipping  _severely_ to let that kind of thing out. He reached up to press a hand to his face, rampant embarrassment overtaking him as he sat there.

“Y'know, I take it all back,” Elm told him, still grinning from ear to ear. “You're already a loose cannon, Branwen.” And she was losing herself to that impossibly loud laughter once more, hearing it echo and reverberate in the dim light around them.

The huntsman could only grumble to himself, and he turned his gaze away from her, brows pinched in frustration. Well, at the very least, the flush of heat along his skin was warming him up somewhat.

He couldn't even be angered by the way her laugh all but shattered through his head. It was a pain of his own doing, and dear gods, he deserved it. He let fingers sift through his hair, giving him something else to focus on as a sharper tone suddenly sang through the air.

Out of reflex, he patted his chest where his scroll usually sat, only to find it missing, and he stared over to Elm. The woman dug about in a pocket, retrieving it smartly as she returned her gaze on him, ignoring it for a moment.

“Shouldn't you be answering that?” Qrow prodded sharply.

“Only if you tell me all about your mystery date when I get back,” she replied swiftly with a wink.

Qrow snorted at her and turned away, all but scowling to himself as he ignored the fresh burn of colour on his cheeks, worrying a spot into his forehead.

“Just do it before it kills me, please,” he groused. The woman could only laugh at him, flicking the device open and raising it to her ear.

From the clipped military terms that soon fell from her, it seemed apparent that it was someone from their rescue team, or perhaps even someone from further up the chain. The woman seemed content to wander aimlessly about their little shelter as she conversed with them, and at the turn of bright laughter from her, she stepped out entirely, taking the overbearing volume of her voice with her.

Somewhat.

It still echoed about the icy cavern, but at the very least, she'd allowed him some small measure of peace, and the breath of simple relief slipped from him.

He let red eyes settle on the ground before him, and fingers slipped from his forehead, settling into his lap once more. At the very least, the nausea that gripped him earlier had subsided, and he was downright thankful for it. Hell, he was  _lucky_ to have only come out of it with a concussion.

Compared to...

His brow furrowed lightly, and he glanced across to the fire. Now that Elm was gone, he could see that she'd been obscuring the girl that sat propped up in the corner, looking for all the world like a silently sleeping doll. His heart twisted at the sight, and he felt his mouth run dry as he drew a steadying breath.

For a moment, all her could do was watch her slumbering face, looking utterly serene, and not at all as if she'd nearly been ripped apart.

His gaze flicked downwards, and he could only stare back at the ragged remains of what was left of her arm. The damage wasn't extensive by any means, all things considered, and it was something relatively simple to repair considering what the poor girl had already been through in her life. If anything, Pietro had been rather jovial about the topic when they all reunited, and the memory brought the whisper of a humourless smile to his lips.

It still didn't change what damage was staring back at him now.

It still... didn't change what had caused it in the first place.

With a steadying hand on frigid metal and the other about his cloak, Qrow took in a deeper breath, ignoring the way his vision swam with movement; joints and bruised muscle protesting along with it. He pushed himself slowly to his feet, staggering back a pace until he could grab at the wall of the train car.

Dark motes danced before his eyes, and fingers trembled as he stayed there for a delicate count of ten. The nausea had spiked once more, and he swallowed it down through a dry throat, forcing himself to ignore it, determined to move.

With a hand on the wall for guidance, and weakness dogging his steps, he made his way over to her.

Leaning back against the wall next to Penny, he slid his back down it, ignoring the cold bite of the metal on skin. Legs nearly collapsed out from under him, and he took in a gasping breath as he landed heavily onto the ground beside the girl, letting limbs sprawl out where they fell. His vision hazed over, and he almost drunkenly brought a hand to his eyes, rubbing at them lightly until the wretched sensation of vertigo subsided.

It lingered, biting deep into his senses, and he breathed through it, letting it run its course as it had before. Letting the nausea settle. Letting the pounding between his ears slow.

Gods, but his girls were going to smother him with worry when they got out of here, he knew.

He let his free hand drop to the space between the two of them, as red eyes followed the sleeping lines of her face, shoulder pressed to hers. With something that took more effort than it really should have, he drew his cloak across his lap once more, settling it about him for some meagre snatch of warmth.

Hand freed, he reached up, delicately tucking a stray lock of red hair back into place from where it had mussed itself during the fall, and the ache in his chest twisted sharply.

Like popping a cork, it wrenched itself free, only to turn itself around and splinter deep into him. It should've been easy, it should've been done by now. It was just a simple skirmish. They all should've been back in Mantle, and not-

Not...

The shudder of a breath dragged from him, and he closed his eyes tightly, letting his cheek rest atop her hair. Fingers reached almost blindly alongside him, and he found the girl's hand, threading with hers and holding tightly as the wretched shame trembled through him.

“... m'sorry kid...” his voice tight as his chest ached and his head throbbed.

Heat burned at the back of his throat, and the sensation of old came rushing back to meet him.

A dance he hated and he would forever know the song by heart.

How he  _wished_ this curse of his would wither and die. How he'd  _prayed_ and  _begged_ every single gods-forsaken day of his life, to  _whatever_ gods were left, that he'd wake up and be free from its wretched grasp.

How he knew it would never,  _ever_ change.

He turned his face towards her, burying burning eyes into soft ginger hair and his breath hitched.

Once again, he'd failed someone.

Once again, and it splintered into him like a thorn, buried and festering underneath until it was just another scar upon already marred skin.

“... m'so sorry...”

Demons never truly died, no matter how bright the light shone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To stand up tall, first we need fall.
> 
> The narrated piece for this chapter is found [over here on my tumblr!](https://whatacartouchebag.tumblr.com/post/620335722079059968/so-a-special-treat-for-this-weeks-upcoming) It's the entirety of Qrow's dream, and it was super fun to get back into recording work for a quick project.
> 
> I promise our bird won't have his wings clipped for long ♥


	27. Coming Up For Air and Coming Down To Earth

The sun had sunk low on the horizon when the first of their rescuers reached them. It clung to the sky, a fiery glow searing against the night in earnest as the darkness of evening crept inexorably closer.

It was almost fitting, given the shade that had passed over the huntsman.

He had only stirred from slumber when a hand settled on his shoulder, finding himself stiff and sore from where he had drifted off against the girl's form. Fingers still curled within hers and his joints had become cold and cramped. Elm herself delicately cradled the girl in her arms, and by the time all of them had reached the surface of the tundra, night had firmly swept across the ice and snow.

Red eyes turned skywards, despite the hands still guiding him, despite the medics still prodding and poking. The stars all but glowed in the inky velvet above, in the darkness of this northern world, and for a moment, a fleeting glimpse of time, he could have almost forgotten about everything that had happened.

They'd been lucky, they were told on the trip back to that gleaming city in the sky. Elm's quick thinking had saved them all from a fate worse than a mere bump to the head and the odd scratch or bruise. Her survival skills had staved off far worse, too.

But it was Penny that had brought them the brightest stroke of luck.

In her final moments before shutdown, coordinates had blistered their way to Pietro, and the man had immediately launched into action. Without her, they would've been stuck for hours. Without her, they would've suffered far worse before help had arrived.

Red eyes tried not to narrow at the words, finding they were nothing but salt ground into the wound.

Lucky.

He leant his head back against cool metal, the weary sigh slipping from him as exhaustion tugged at his senses and heavy eyelids closed. The fresh bandage about his head was too tight, and it itched against skin. The heavy jacket that had been slung about him felt too constricting and thick, and the contents of the mug in his hands was almost too hot, too sweet. Whatever they'd given him to help dull the nausea and pain had stripped his thoughts down to the bone, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep.

To fall into an utterly dreamless sleep.

Fingers curled about his mug as a flickering recollection of a candle's light returned to him, and brows pinched, trying to snatch at the _déjà_ vu like smoke.

He'd been told to try and fight off the urge to doze, and he opened red eyes once more, staring aimlessly outside as the ghost of a memory left him. For the first time in a long while, his dreams now eluded him; a blessed change from the nightmares that tugged at him. It wasn't all too terrible to wake up with the feeling of warmth at his chest instead of the usual startle, but it always left him with the sensation that he'd forgotten something.

What lingered was merely the pleasant feeling of nostalgia.

The remainder of the trip back became a haze of glittering lights and the slow and steady climb back to the dark monolith of the Academy. It gave his senses something to focus on, rather than the steady throb of his head, and he took another sip from a steaming mug.

He'd been told his scroll was smashed in their landing. It was no wonder he'd yet to hear from his girls, he thought with a humourless smile.

The shadow of his ache clung deep in his chest, like a bruise long forgotten, until fingers grazed it once more. It had been... some time since he last felt the dogging of his semblance in such a way, and the very last had been that wretched farm. When he was still able to bury himself under a tidal wave of relief, and slip into a hazy sense of freedom.

Not enough to forget, but simply enough not to _care_ anymore.

That's... what it had always been about, and his brow pinched above haunted red eyes at the thought.

It was a hard thing to say he didn't want to care anymore, when all he _did_ was care too much. Gods above, it was where most of his messes started from.

The ache tightened in his chest, and fingers curled at his stomach, chasing the phantom nausea away. The very thought of letting himself slip that far under again chilled him further than anything else in Solitas could. It gave him a fear unlike any other that slipped under his skin. He swallowed against a dry throat, glad, at the very least, for the little pulse of adrenaline his thoughts had given him.

Now, though... now there was only facing the consequences head on with nothing to buffer his thoughts.

He was almost glad when they touched down, giving him something visceral to cease his mind's wanderings. A hand fell to his shoulder, and Elm smiled down at him.

“Let's go get you cleaned up for you date, lover boy.”

Qrow couldn't stop the soft snort of a laugh from spilling from him if he tried.

***

It had started with a simple call, and the cascading effect was little else but a series of dominoes falling, one atop another.

Yang had given in to the boredom of inactivity, and restless for an actual sparring session, attempted to call her uncle to set something up for later in the day. It hadn't even begun to ring out when it disconnected in her ear, and she drew it back to stare at the red flash of his signal.

At her prompting, the rest of her team pulled out their own scrolls, and the same thing greeted them. It wasn't as if the huntsman had simply forgotten to turn it on as per usual; it was as if the device didn't even exist on the Atlas network.

It was only then that the worry began to bury itself deep into skin, and glances were exchanged. Ruby perked after a moment of deep thought, and the snatch of words sat half-formed upon her tongue. She withdrew a little, rethinking herself.

“This morning... he said he had a meeting to get to. Boring adult stuff, he called it, but...” she murmured, almost thinking aloud. The tone of his voice rang true in her memories, and concern began to gnaw at her. “There was something on his mind...” Silver eyes glanced over at her sister, as a familiar bead of concern ran between the two of them. “You... don't think...”

Yang stared down at the man's picture on her scroll, brow furrowing as the same dark thought struck her. Their uncle wouldn't have... No, she saw how much the celebration meant to him last night; he wouldn't break a promise like that with himself.

“No way,” she said with soft finality. “But... if he was meeting someone, maybe...”

With a few taps of the screen, those brows raised in surprise. His mission status was back to active and it was set to currently in progress. That was... not at all how they'd last seen it.

“He's on the field...” she breathed in surprise, not expecting her stray thought to be confirmed for her so easily.

Weiss stared down at her own scroll, tapping through her list of contacts. Without so much as a word, she'd brought the device to her ear as it rang out. What better way to get to the bottom of something, than by going straight to the top. It clicked in her ear as it connected.

“Weiss,” Winter stated in mild surprise. “What can I do for you?”

It was only then that her resolve faltered a little, and the young woman felt her brow furrow. It felt like a trivial worry, but something about this... hadn't sat right with any of them.

“Winter... we're trying to contact Qrow, but his scroll signal's vanished,” she explained simply, delicately testing the waters. “We just wanted to know when he'll be back from his mission.”

There was a touch of silence on the line, and for a heartbeat of time, the young woman worried she'd lost her sister as well.

“Mission? He's not- Give me a moment.” She'd cut herself off, sounds of activity behind her, and a soft string of stern words muffled. “I'm sorry, something's just come up, but I'll look into as soon as I can. I'll call you back when I get the chance.”

“Wait, bu-” The line clicked in her ear. Weiss let out a terse sigh as she tucked her scroll away. “Well _that_ was helpful. She doesn't know anything _about_ his mission.”

“What about Clover?” Blake offered. Ruby was already tapping through her own scroll to find the man's details, surprised that it had taken them _that_ long to think of the operative. Hell, it wasn't as if they didn't leave together the night before.

It rang out for a short moment, and the girl couldn't help the worried squirm that buried itself in her stomach. A hand on her shoulder from her sister gave her grounding, and she barely managed a smile for her when the call clicked in connection.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” the man's voice greeted her warmly.

“Clover, hi! Um, we... have a little problem.”

There was a beat of time, and the amusement was ripe on his tongue when he spoke.

“What'd you break and why are you trying to hide it from your uncle?”

The question caught her off guard entirely, and she couldn't help the soft snuffle of laughter that tore from her. Something in her chest loosened at the simple words, and her worry ebbed, if only for a moment.

“More like what'd Uncle Qrow break,” she replied. “Something's wrong with his scroll, and we just want to get in touch with him, so... do you know when he'll be back from his mission?”

The same silence that had greeted Weiss moments ago now greeted Ruby, and it did nothing to help the flow of her concern come trickling back.

“He... _should_ be back.”

There was a beat of time, and she could hear him moving. Ruby felt her heart sink to her stomach, but she knew the worry was baseless until they knew something. Maybe he'd just dropped his scroll somewhere, or stepped on it again, or... or something else.

Really, it was thanks to his luck that he'd _already_ had his scroll replaced during their stay in Atlas.

Through the line, a series of rapid key clicks swept in as Clover searched for something on another terminal, scroll likely tucked between an ear and shoulder as green eyes flicked over what he could see. Fingers fell silent after a moment, and it was almost as if the call had dropped it became so deathly quiet.

There was a faint murmur of sound from him, softly muffled.

“I've found him. Ruby, meet me at sub-level two; you'll need clearance to get in,” he told her simply. “I'll... look into his scroll issue on the way.”

She sighed in visceral relief. “Thank you so much. We're on our way!” Now feeling somewhat lighter, she drew the device from her ear, smile playing easily on her lips. Silver eyes rose to her teammates and their expectant gazes.

“Clover's found where he is, and he's going to meet us in sub-level two,” she explained, tucking her scroll away and already on the move. “Come on!” Yang and Blake had followed after her, reaching the door.

“Ruby...”

The girl placed her hand on the door frame at the soft call of her name from Weiss, and as she turned, saw that the young woman hadn't moved from her place save for curling a hand to her chest. Ruby met those blue eyes and the concern that ran through them, and Weiss could only faintly shake her head.

“That's... the infirmary level.”

***

There were only so many times he could ask himself the same questions, knowing the same answers would roll about in his mind until they came back full circle once more.

Clover found himself lost to all manner of them as he nearly sprinted down the corridor, boots heavy on the ground. He'd have his answers; he knew. He just wasn't expecting the slew of immediate questions as he'd searched at Ruby's behest.

Of why Qrow and Elm were currently en route to the infirmary. Of why a _rescue mission_ had taken place in the gods-damned tundra. Of why Penny's last known coordinates were alongside them. Of why Penny was _currently offline._

He'd felt his heart freeze in his chest as green eyes were caught, unmoving as he read them rapidly for what felt like the seventh time in a row. The breath ripped from his thought as the cold, clinical facts were presented to him, and the curse had slipped from him unbidden. He only hoped Ruby had heard worse with her time in this world.

His finger had all but stayed pressed to his ear as he quickly spoke with the other members of his team, and it wasn't until Elm herself chimed in on her scroll that answers began to slip through. That some of the shock seemed to ebb. That something in his chest began to loosen.

That some of the immediate fear began to trickle from him.

Fingers caught the edge of the entrance as he came to a short stop, green eyes casting across the few personnel there. He'd barely opened his mouth to ask when a young man met his eyes, standing up from behind the reception desk.

“Captain!” There was a quick salute from him, Clover almost forgetting to return it. “Special Operative Schnee told me to expect you, sir. Operative Elm and Huntsman Branwen are in rooms eight and nineteen. Follow this corridor and head to the right, sir.”

Clover thanked the young man, jogging lightly from his place. He felt part of his stomach squirm, but at the very least, he felt a wave of relief tickle the back of his mind. He knew the layout of the infirmary well enough; if they were _both_ in their own rooms there, it meant it wasn't severe. It meant it wasn't-

There was a short string of shouts from behind him, and he'd barely cast green eyes over his shoulder before a furious streak of red barrelled past him, and fingers shot out in reaction, trying to catch the last of that passing cloak.

_“Ruby!”_

At the sharp call of her name, the storm of petals blew to a stop, and terrified silver eyes met his. The girl sprinted back to him, fingers clutching at his uniform front.

“Clover, why is- You said sub-level two, this is-” she could barely get her words out for the panic that rose from her. “Why is Uncle Qrow _here?”_

He curled both hands about her shoulders, not even hesitating before he pulled her into a firm hug, giving her something solid to focus on. She was terrified at the news; that was plain to see. Hell, he'd been trying not to let himself dwell on the wrench of emotion that sat under his skin, and he felt those small hands clutch at his uniform tightly.

“I'm still trying to find out all the details myself, but it looks like he stepped in to help Elm while she was on patrol in Mantle,” he explained as evenly as he could manage, feeling her nearly tremble. “Things got a little dicey, and they disturbed part of an old mining shaft, and had to be rescued out of it.”

She pulled back to dart her gaze up to green eyes and hands came to her mouth in surprise, breath seizing in her chest. _“_ _Rescued?_ But- Are they-”

“They're getting checked out right now,” he answered softly. He drew back softly to walk with her through the corridor once more, one hand staying gently about her shoulders. “But if they're here, it likely means it's nothing serious. And from what I've heard already, it's nothing warranting anything more than a good once over.”

She kept the words firmly in her mind as they walked. Nothing serious. It _had_ to be nothing serious if they were here. Fingers curled and fidgeted lightly about her belt, needing to do something as the nervous energy ticked through her. And gods, why was he deciding to _walk there_ at a time like-

As if dipping lightly into her thoughts, the hand about her shoulders squeezed gently, and her brow furrowed, drawing her lip lightly between teeth.

“Ruby,” his voice smoothed through her skittering mind as her heart continued to thud in her chest. “I spoke with Elm on the way here, and she said aside from a few bumps and scrapes, they're none the worse for wear. A little shaken up, and certainly tired and hungry, but mostly alright. And you want to know what else?”

The girl took in a steadying breath, letting herself focus on his words and what he was telling her. Focus on the gentle tone he was giving her. Just... focus.

“Mm, what else?”

He couldn't help the smile that crossed his expression as they reached a locked set of double doors, Military warnings emblazoned across it and cameras trained on their every move. He fished lightly for his scroll, passing it briefly over the coded door lock, and they continued their trek as it swung open for them.

“The only thing Qrow was really upset about was missing his date tonight.”

His words had the desired effect, and immediately, the cloud of worry that had settled so deeply over the girl was shattered in a heartbeat as silver eyes darted up to him. Surprise wreathed her expression for a handful of time before the veil dropped. The snuffle of laughter shot from her in a bright peal that echoed sharply about them, and he couldn't help the warm smile that smothered his expression.

She reached up as her giggles tapered off, wiping her eyes gently. Clover was glad for the blessed change in her emotions, and he could feel the way the tension had slipped from her shoulders. Even if they were both worried, he was relieved he could still find a way to bring a smile to her face.

“I _am_ curious though,” he began gently. Silver eyes ducked up to his, and he couldn't help but furrow his brows lightly. “Where _were_ you when you called?”

The girl allowed the faint laugh to skitter from her, embarrassment tinting her expression. She reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, glancing away briefly. A simple move he'd seen time and time again from her uncle.

Definitely related, his mind whispered.

“I ah, well...” she cleared her throat softly. “Maybe... kind of in our dorm. You know... on the eighth level...” That soft breath of a laugh left her again, and Clover could only shake his head lightly at her. Why was he not surprised...

“I should _probably_ remind you that there's rules about running in the halls,” he mentioned with a gentle laugh. “What I _am_ going to say instead, is that's damn impressive. Has anyone ever tried to record how fast you can go?”

Ruby glanced up at him, head tilted slightly. “Not really. I mean, it'd be nice to know, sure, but I think people would rather be happy that I can move fast enough to save them, you know?” The operative could only smile at her, giving her shoulder a faint squeeze.

“Talk to Hare sometime; I'm sure she'd love to take you up on it,” he told her simply, and he watched that face all but light up at the suggestion.

“Really? Oh that'd be so awesome! I've been wanting to race her properly since that mission in the mines!” the girl beamed up at him, almost bouncing under his arm. Clover could only laugh brightly at her, glad to see the return of that thousand watt smile.

As his laughter faded, he caught the faint snatch of voices ahead of them, and he glanced up at the open door of a nearby room. Thankfully, no one was yelling, and nothing sounded angry or dire in there, so they were certainly off to a good start. Ruby caught the sound of a familiar voice, and she pulled from Clover's arm and ran straight into the room without warning.

The operative had slightly more tact, and by the time he'd stepped into the threshold, he was able to witness the girl all but _flinging_ herself into her uncle's side and squishing the very life out of him with her arms as he sat on the edge of a bed. The doctor at his side looked stricken for a moment before Qrow returned the sudden embrace with a gentle laugh, realising she was known to him.

“Who let you in, pipsqueak?”

Clover could only smile warmly at him, feeling something in his chest loosen at the sight of the huntsman sitting there with a thick bandage about his head. He certainly looked tired and sorry for himself, even without the added injuries Ruby was probably giving him.

The sight of him, alive and well, did more for his heart than anything else in the world could have, and he swallowed through a suddenly tight throat. He folded his arms across his chest as the smile touched his lips.

“That would be me,” he announced simply, bringing all eyes in the room back to him. Qrow met his gaze and something behind those red eyes made him pause softly, the faint smile on his expression faltering lightly. Something behind that easy smile brought the nibble of concern crashing to the forefront of his mind, ever before a word could be uttered.

It was that gaze that told him a story of its own making, and gathered altogether far too many questions to his tongue.

It was those eyes that had first spoken of his luck, and had shadowed over in shame. It was those eyes that shakily deflected words over a simple game of cards together on a mission. It was those eyes that had sat alongside him on a bench, spilling grief onto his shoulder. It was those eyes that had spoken gently of his semblance, after a night of shared sorrow.

There was something those eyes were telling him, and he wanted nothing more than to walk across the room and gather him into his arms until the look in them vanished from sight.

“Captain, you have good timing,” the doctor said, pulling the man back to the present. Clover ducked his gaze over to him, stepping fully into the room. “I was just about to leave for the night. We'd like to keep him for observations, so it would be good to have someone converse with him for a while. Keep him awake a little longer whilst his head settles.”

The snort left the huntsman in a heartbeat, and he was already rolling his eyes. “And like I keep telling you, I'm fine,” he groused without any real venom. There was a low grumble from his side and he glanced down at silver eyes glaring straight back at him, puffing out her cheeks in irritation. “What? I am. This is purely just for show,” he added, pointing up to his bandage.

“You _were_ also unconscious for some time, as I've been told, so that warrants immediate overnight observation,” the doctor added, not-so-subtly, earning him a sharp look from the huntsman.

“You were _what-_ ”

“Qrow, you can't-”

Both voices started up in simultaneous exasperation, and he held up his hands in mild defence, the sigh falling heavy from his tongue.

“Alright, alright, I'll stay, geez...” he grumbled. Without waiting for approval, he untangled himself from his niece. At least by now, the room had stopped spinning underneath him, but it still didn't stop the insistent thudding between his ears when he turned too quickly.

He reached up to that shaggy mop of his niece's hair, ruffling it gently, and she swatted at him with a squawk. Ruby retaliated by burying herself under his arm again, wanting to simply hold onto him and know he was safe and sound, and he smiled warmly down at her.

“What're we gonna do with you...” she whispered gently to him, like _she_ was the one always taking care of him lately. Given recent history, she wasn't all that far off the mark. He snaked his arm back around her shoulders and squeezed fondly.

“Maybe get some decent sleep and stop stressing out over me,” he murmured right back, earning him a gentle breath of laughter. The doctor had finished giving Clover the last of his update, and with a short wave and a stern warning to call if anything changed, left the three of them to their devices.

Those green eyes watched the huntsman carefully, taking visual stock of everything that he saw, and little by little, it began to unwind in his chest. He had his answers. He had even more questions. And he still couldn't help the sigh that fell from him as he just watched those red eyes glance up from his niece, smirk light on the huntsman's lips.

“Armed guards for the night? Lucky me.”

The operative could only laugh gently at him, shaking his head at the idiot. The words did nothing to relieve the worry that gnawed at his thoughts. If anything, he saw them immediately for what they were, and it only ached all the more in his chest.

It was armour. And Qrow was wearing it fiercely.

He walked to the where the two of them sat, and still Clover could do nothing but hesitate at the sight before him. He reached up without thought, the backs of fingers grazing gently across a bandage. Qrow saw the way those green eyes followed his own fingers, and he saw the ache that sat easily within them.

He reached up, fingers delicately encircling a wrist and just holding him gently as the man's hand drifted to the curve of his jaw.

“You look terrible,” Clover told him bluntly.

Qrow snorted softly. “You should see the other guy.”

The smile came back to both of them, and the gentle laughed skittered between the three, breaking some of the tenuous hold in the room.

“So,” the operative continued, drawing back enough to let fingers tangle together with the huntsman. “I've got most of the details from Elm, and I've passed on what I know already. But, your turn... what happened out there?”

There was a moment of dawning clarity and concern that flicked across the huntsman's expression, and he straightened lightly, blinking up at him. Ruby drew back from her smothering hold on her uncle, sitting up properly as she felt the tension pull through him.

Red eyes glanced downwards, already a telling sign for the two of them, and Ruby placed her hand gently upon his knee.

“... I happened,” he breathed.

Fingers curled lightly into his.

“Elm... wasn't the only one there,” he began softly, hesitation halting the words that spilled from him. “We fought together for a while... until Penny joined us.”

“Penny?” Ruby breathed, not following as her eyes ducked up to Clover. Only Elm and her uncle had made their way to the infirmary, and yet this was the first she'd heard of her friend being there.

The way the operative met her eyes, light furrow on his brow, spoke gently to her. Did... did Clover know she was there? He hadn't reacted to the news of Penny's involvement; it hadn't seemed to surprise him, so she could only assume.

Even if it only brought the worry firmly to the forefront of her mind.

“Uncle Qrow...” Her voice was small in the room, and her hand gently squeezed his knee. “Please tell us what happened.”

The operative saw the swathe of question behind those silver eyes, and he didn't even know where to start. He only had the end result of what happened to the girl; sterile words that had blinked back at him from a terminal, and now what he could see in Qrow's eyes. It was enough for him to mostly put it together, and yet...

He had to let the huntsman himself fill in the blanks for the both of them.

Qrow's brow furrowed, and he curled his fingers gently. “It was... little mistakes here and there. Blows that shouldn't have been missed. Hits we shouldn't have taken. Slips we should've been ready for. The fact the gods damned ice _opened up_ underneath us,” a huff of a laugh. “Then she-”

He cut himself off, words drying on his tongue as the memory of visceral fear still tore fresh through his chest. He could still see it happen, still heard that scream, still felt-

He closed his eyes briefly, grounding himself away from the memory for a moment.

“She... took a hit from a Manticore. Kid lost an arm to it,” he shook his head lightly, unable to completely tear himself back from it, even with Ruby's sharp draw of breath next to him. “When we spoke with Pietro on the way up, he said it was fine. He said... he said it could be fixed.”

Clover felt the curse sit softly on his tongue, knowing it was _exactly_ what he thought.

Qrow's brow furrowed deeply, and he opened red eyes to glare at the floor.

“Fixed...” he hissed the word. “Like it'd even need to happen if I hadn't- If I wasn't there to-”

“That's _enough.”_

The sharp words from Ruby snapped both of their attentions to the girl. Her own brow was set to a sharp furrow, and she was glaring heatedly at the huntsman. Clearly this wasn't her first altercation with the man over the fact, and from what Clover knew of his family, it wouldn't be the last.

She sighed through her nose.

“Uncle Qrow, you can't just _say that_ and expect us to believe it,” she told him, expression unwavering, despite his own conviction.

“Kid, I was _there_ _,_ that's reason enough to-”

“No, it's _not!”_

For the second time in a handful of heartbeats, she'd silenced him firmly. A hand reached up, curling delicately about his shoulder, small on his frame. Red eyes skirted the sight of those slender fingers, returning to her fierce gaze as he quietly let out the breath that held the rest of his words.

Those silver eyes scored deep into him and razed his soul every single time she confronted him like this, and yet they were never her own.

“You can't keep blaming yourself for every single little thing like this,” she told him gently. “Just because it happened while you were _there_ , doesn't make it true.”

How he wanted her words to ring true, and he could only offer her a fractured smile tinted with hollow regret. He'd barely parted his lips to reply when she steamrolled over him once more.

“Sometimes, mistakes just happen. And it's just like you said; Penny can be repaired as good as new! So there's _no need_ to treat yourself this way.”

He glanced back down at the floor at her soft words. Gods how he ached for her words to be true, but he'd already lived with it long enough to know it would never be. Coincidences in his life were always of the worst kind.

“Uncle Qrow, do you blame yourself for the fall of Beacon? Or for Pyrrha?”

The soft words were like an eloquent blow to the back of his neck, and he darted his gaze up to her, stricken at how blunt it was. Green eyes ducked over to her in the same breath, wondering what kind of live grenade the girl had just thrown under his feet.

He knew with perfect clarity that Qrow sometimes needed to be shaken from his thoughts, but _that_ was a hell of a way to do it.

“What? No, of course not,” Qrow answered immediately.

“But you were _there_ right?” she pressed, hammering her point in with a precision strike. Those red eyes took the blow with surprising softness, and he only cast his gaze away for a heartbeat, knowing she'd already struck a victory. Ruby took in a short breath, steeling her words. “Or... or what about when mom disappeared?”

The chill struck him immediately, and it tore through his shoulders in such a way that it rendered him entirely without thought. Softly widened red eyes could only stare back at her, breath all but stolen from him at the delicate sharpness of her words.

Summer was...

He blinked maybe a little too quickly as he let his gaze drift to the floor, not even _knowing_ how to respond to that one. He knew she was rapidly gaining the ability to attack with her words as well as her scythe, but that... He didn't even know where to _start_ with such a razor sharp take-down like that.

Summer's disappearance had _nothing_ to do with his semblance, and yet he carried with him the guilt of _years_ because of it.

Ruby had just destroyed all of it in one sharp blow to his chest, and it left the feeling crushed under his skin like so much shattered glass.

He swallowed through a tight throat, looking almost lost to her words, and she sighed heavily at his side. Without so much as another word, she drew her arms about him tightly, hugging him firmly and pressing her lips to his temple.

“Uncle Qrow... sometimes... things just happen...” she breathed against skin. “You need to stop trying to carry it on your own. You just... need to stop.”

He reached up with a trembling hand, curling fingers deep into her dark strands as the breath slipped from him in a quiet, shaky rush. She felt him tremor from within her grasp, and the bed dipped lightly as Clover seated himself next to the huntsman.

Fingers readjusted where they'd settled; an arm slipped about Qrow's back, curling tight above an angry red scar as Clover's other hand threaded with fingers comfortably. Giving him a well needed anchor as the storm grew. Pulling him gently against the man and letting his warmth calm him.

There was a shaky draw of breath from between the two of them, and the huntsman gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

“... but I couldn't... even get to her in time...” the breath slipped from him, almost catching at the back of his throat. “I couldn't...” Fingers squeezed his firmly, wringing from him a faint bead of focus.

“You're not to blame for it,” Clover murmured against his cheek. “Penny would tell you the same thing.”

“But I-”

“Qrow.”

The gentle tone of his name was enough to get the huntsman to still whatever words sat shaky on his tongue. He knew he still had such a tenuous grip on himself, particularly with the two of them all but boxing him in. Hell, probably out of everyone, the two of them knew how deeply he wrestled with his curse.

“Semblance or no,” Clover's voice rumbled. “Sometimes things are simply decided by the world around us.”

Qrow took in a deeper breath, feeling it still and settle in his chest, feeling the tremor trail through his shoulders, feeling the squirm of guilt sink into his stomach like a stone. He felt the heat burning behind red eyes and he closed them tightly, chasing it away before it could smother him.

He couldn't let himself. Not now.

Even with the two of them curled up against him so tightly and acting for all the world like a shield against everything... he couldn't. He'd already spilt enough sorrow for himself down in that wretched cavern, and it still left him feeling raw and hollowed out. It left him wanting to curl up and sleep, to fall into a dreamless slumber and forget about his wretched curse for a few scant hours.

He wanted to. _Gods,_ how he wanted to.

The steadying breath drew in between parted lips, canting over a dry throat, and he swallowed tightly. He knew their logic was sound; he'd heard it all before. It was something that had been told to him time and time again. It was a familiar dance, to an old, old melody, and his feet knew their place before the first strains drifted across his ears.

The dogging of his semblance would always be there, and it always weighed heavily on his mind, bearing down on his thoughts. Its dark blanket smothered him, as it always had, and he knew it would take time to claw himself out from under it.

He knew the ache and pull would run its course through his chest until the feeling became old and tired, like a bruise forgotten until another one took its place.

For the moment, it was like someone had recently lifted their finger from his skin, and the pressure still stung his senses.

He took in a deeper breath, letting it sit full in his lungs, and arms about his shoulders held tighter, and fingers threaded with his own squeezed gently.

He had to remind himself – hold onto the thought – that of all their combined injuries, he'd suffered the worst of the lot. Penny had the utter luxury of getting herself repaired entirely, and possibly coming back better than before. Elm barely had a scratch on her, and had spent her trip back fussing over the huntsman more than anything else.

He was the only one to truly suffer his luck, and that... that was good enough for him.

With a steady exhale, he let the tension slip from his shoulders, knowing it was a fight for another day. There was still a war with himself to be won, but for now, he could only lower his sword as he stared down the battle ahead, grateful for the allies at his side.

“... I'm okay,” he breathed, barely above a whisper.

Red eyes opened, and he swallowed. Remembered how to breathe once more.

“... I'm... okay,” he repeated, just for himself.

Qrow felt the smile from his niece against his temple, and his own fingers threaded further into her hair, feeling his own lips curling at her gentleness. He hated feeling this way, but it was a delicate blessing knowing that she would be there to help guide him, like a beacon of light for a moth.

His brow furrowed lightly at the thought, and something about it sounded all too familiar in his mind.

In a heartbeat, the silence of the room was shattered as her scroll erupted in noise, and she veritably jolted against the huntsman, whipping back to hastily grab at it; their shared moment all but destroyed. For a second, she baulked entirely at the name, and dawning fear broke across her expression as she accepted the call, pressing it gingerly to her ear.

_“Ruby!!”_

The sharp bark of Yang's voice through the room was enough to tear the soft snicker from the huntsman, knowing intimately what that furious tone meant. She _definitely_ inherited her mother's temper.

“Yang, come on now, don't be mad, you know I just kind of... panicked a little-”

Her gently placating words did nothing in the face of _this_ storm, and the yelling began anew in her ear, causing her to jolt and hold the device out at arm's length. Her sister's voice was a literal axe through Qrow's head as it sang out from the scroll, but nothing could stop the soft snuffles of amusement at her tone.

“May I?” Clover untangled his fingers from Qrow's and motioned to the girl, with Ruby more than willingly handing over her scroll. He waited until there was a breath between the yelling. “Yang, it's Clover. I'll be out in a moment to give you clearance, and don't worry; I've already told your sister no more running in the halls.” He paused, and both uncle and niece were infinitely glad the man had the innate ability to bring the dragon's voice down about fifty decibels. The operative gave a gentle laugh. “No, no, he's fine; you'll see soon enough. Alright, see you shortly.”

He ended the call and handed the device back to Ruby, meeting those eyes. “You _might_ want to write up your will before you head out to apologise,” he told her with a soft laugh. “They're waiting out front.” She gave a defeated groan as she slid to her feet.

“If I'm not back in ten minutes, tell my story,” she sighed dramatically as she trudged from the room.

Qrow could only laugh softly at her, knowing she'd probably get a thwap on the back of the head from her sister, but for a very good reason. Maybe put her into a headlock for a minute or two. He knew she was prone to simply tearing off when it came down to matters of a person's safety and wellbeing, with little to no thought for those around her. Honestly, their whole family were like that at the best of times.

He'd barely turned to glance at the man alongside him, when lips were pressed to his, warm and insistent. It almost surprised him for a moment considering the girl had _just_ left, and he felt fingertips brush along his cheek, softly hesitant, before resting flush against his skin.

The huntsman found himself relaxing into the man's hold upon him, sighing gently against those lips. His own fingers sought the front of a uniform, curling into fabric as they kissed. It was a tender, unhurried thing between them, and Qrow found the gentle ache of words unsaid in those lips.

He could feel how much this little scare had caught the operative unawares, and he drew his hand up across fabric, finding the warm skin of his neck and holding gently. Giving him something real to feel upon his skin. Giving him a moment to understand it.

The gentle insistence of lips against his told him everything he wanted to hear from the man, and he found himself replying with the exact same words. He didn't want to lose him. Even if in hindsight, the accident had been minor, the injuries almost trivial, it still sat heavily in the forefront of both their minds, and it came tumbling down upon them in a moment of utter clarity.

Qrow felt the way those hands held him, steady and firm, but there was no denying the way they curled into skin and fabric. He wasn't going anywhere, they said. He didn't want to lose him.

The huntsman could only agree with them whole-heartedly, and he kissed him like a drowning man breathing in the sweet air around him.

It had been with some reluctance that Clover had parted from him. Lips still ached and hands still wanted to hold, but he was also silly enough to put a timer on their secluded moment together. The reminder of such a thing came only a handful of seconds later, when Ruby called the operative from the entrance of the infirmary, sounding for all the world as if Yang had her in a headlock.

Qrow had to hide his laughter in the crook of the man's neck as Clover _promised_ he was on his way out. Despite knowing he'd only be gone for a moment, the man still couldn't find it within himself to untangle from the huntsman just yet, and he sighed against the curve of his jaw. He didn't want to lose him.

“You know Ruby can only distract Yang for so long,” came the murmur against his ear. “And then Yang's gonna try and murder _you_ for distracting us both.”

Clover gave a breathy laugh against skin as fingers skirted under the hem of a shirt, resting on warm skin and simply indulging in the feel of the huntsman. He was here and he was safe; the words kept rolling through his mind, but it still didn't feel real until lips were against his and fingers were sitting warm on lithe muscle.

He wanted to steal what he could, if only to smother the ever-present ache that still lingered behind his sternum. Wanted to quash it before it could-

He didn't want to lose him. He hadn't realised the full shock of it until the news had struck out of the blue, and the fear had blanketed his mind entirely to everything save for the clinical facts displayed upon a screen.

_Scroll inactive. Rescue mission. Infirmary._

Fear had snatched everything from him for a handful of time that felt like an eternity.

“Clover...”

Fingers curled into brunet hair, bringing the man's focus back to what was right before him.

Qrow pressed their foreheads together, lips chasing a chaste kiss. “I'm not going anywhere, promise. My hospital break-out days are over, and the sooner we assure them all that I'm fine-” Fingers pressed to the man's lips as the light protest began. “-which I _am,_ then the sooner you get me all to yourself again.”

The man sighed against those lips. “That sounds like a hell of a fair deal.”

“It's more than fair, considering I stood up my date for tonight.”

The laughter was warm and bright against his cheek, and with a final press of lips to skin, Clover pulled himself back. Green eyes still lingered on the huntsman, and fingers still curled together, the faintest of touches. He didn't want to lose him. Qrow was just about ready to throw his pillow at the man before he finally slipped away, achingly warm smile upon his expression.

Qrow kept his own eyes on the door as he vanished from sight, resisting the urge to roll them.

Honestly.


	28. Facing the Music and Finding my Reason

Qrow knew what his nieces were like, and, worse, he knew the rest of them were like; the moment Clover stuck his head out, he'd be all but hounded and set upon.

As it was, the huntsman only had a handful of time to himself before the telltale level of volume started to waft down the corridor, and he knew the trickle would soon become a flood. He pushed himself up further onto the bed, crossing his legs under him, and a heartbeat later, a red and black streak of chaos barrelled into the room once more and latched firmly about his neck. He coughed in mock response, and Ruby only hugged him tighter.

“Did you miss me?”

He reached up to bap her softly on the crown of her head with a gentle laugh.

“Nope.”

The girl mirrored his laughter, glad to see the return of his good spirits. Their shared moment only lasted for so long, for in the next, there was all manner of chaos and colour and concerned voices spilling into the room and smothering one another as both teams flung into the room and crowded about the huntsman. What seemed like an endless stream of questions about himself, the fight, of Penny, of their rescue, of Elm, of how they-

He shot his hands up in response, suddenly feeling more than a little boxed in.

He  _did_ have to gently remind them all that he was suffering from a pretty decent head injury and that personal space and volume were all luxuries to him, and the effect was almost immediate. They all drew back with deep concern and deathly quiet, and the collective worry on each and every one of those faces was enough to get him to renege almost entirely on his words.

“Look, aside from still seeing twenty of you, and the fact my ears are still kinda ringing, it's not as bad as it looks,” he told them gently. “Coulda happened to anyone out there on the field. I just...”

His voice died off a little, and he met that silver gaze with a faint smile. “I just lost my footing for a while.” He reached up to ruffle that dark hair, and Ruby swatted at him lightly, feeling her heart warm at the words. No, he wasn't good, and it wasn't over, but he was... better.

It was all that mattered to her.

There was a sharp snort from the group, and all eyes turned to Nora, and how she'd folded her arms across her chest, looking entirely nonplussed at the huntsman's words. She held his gaze for a moment, and he  _thoroughly_ expected a firm telling off from the girl. What he didn't wager on was how she all but stormed back over to him, forcing herself into his personal space and jabbing him in the chest.

He blinked owlishly at her, wondering what kind of trouble he was  _really_ in.

“If you think for _one minute_ that some silly head trauma is going to get you out of the biggest hug of your life, then you've got another thing coming, mister,” she groused loudly. He'd barely opened his mouth to reply when he found himself wrapped in strong arms.

“She does have a point,” Ren conceded with a shrug.

“A _very_ good point,” Blake agreed with a laugh, also stepping forward to join the arms wrapped about him. Qrow could only let the breath of a laugh slip from him as one by one, they all stepped forward to join in, embracing him gently.

“You've really gotta stop pulling these kind of stunts,” Jaune told him softly from the back of the pile, earning a few laughs from the group.

“I mean, no promises,” the huntsman replied with a wry smirk. “But hey, if it earns me this kind of welcome home, I think I can live with that.”

Yang snorted at him from where she hugged him from behind, and he felt the gentle ruffle of fingers in his hair.

“You _better_ learn to live with it, you doofus,” she told him affectionately, drawing back from the man and giving him his space once more. He glanced over his shoulder as best as he could at her, smile warming his entire expression.

“Is that a threat, firecracker?”

She grinned at him, shaking her head. “No, a promise.”

All he could do was laugh gently at her, and one by one, each of them withdrew from their tight embrace, relieved down to the core that the huntsman really was alright. It had been a scare that none of them were prepared for again anytime soon, and it reminded them down to their bones that things could change in the blink of an eye.

It was a feeling that none of the would ever stop carrying, and the huntsman wished it could be any other way for all of them.

“How far do you think those tunnels go?” Oscar asked quietly once all of them had settled about the room, strewn on chairs and bed and floor. Qrow reached up to rub the back of his neck, shrugging lightly.

“Considering it's an abandoned mine that _started_ from the centre of Mantle, who knows? I ah, wasn't exactly up to exploring it at the time.”

Nora's eyes suddenly lit up. “Ooh, do you think the trains still work down there? We should  _totally_ go and find out!” Jaune could only sigh at her.

“Haven't we had _enough_ train adventures lately?”

“Oh please; _they're_ the ones that had all the train adventures; all we got was a nice, cozy ride all the way to Argus,” the girl retorted. “Pretty boring if you ask me.”

Qrow couldn't help but smile at her, and he let his gaze drift down to rings that sat upon fingers. He still hadn't forgotten the little fact that Pietro had told him, and it still...  _utterly_ made his mind reel with the implications of it all. The fact that it came all the way from Argus, that it had been upon the man's own hand for years and years, the fact that Clover...

He drew his gaze up as the man in question finally appeared in the door, scroll pressed to his ear. Green eyes met his gaze, and the warm smile graced his expression, conversation lost to them both for a moment. Clover's smile grew, unable to stop himself, and he ducked his eyes away, finishing his call and tucking his scroll away.

“Well, good news,” he announced, drawing all eyes to him as he entered the room. “I just finished speaking with Pietro, and it sounds like everything should be back to normal by first thing tomorrow morning.”

There was a breath of palpable relief in the room, and Qrow felt it settle behind his ribs. It was alright, he told himself. It could be fixed. To all of them, it was a weight taken from their minds. To those that had witnessed the events of the Vytal Festival, it was a shaky reminder of history repeating itself, and it was with a sombre sigh of relief that their friend was alright. Repaired as good as new, better even, just like Penny herself had told them.

As if dipping gently into his thoughts, Clover continued. “She was pretty lucky, all things told. Nothing vital was struck, and the repairs were minimal; Pietro even had everything ready to go, as she was due to undergo maintenance on her arms in the next few days, so... it  _was_ quite fortunate.”

“Yeah, well, tell her not to take ten years off my life next time,” Qrow groused good-naturedly at him. Clover placed a hand on his hip, laughing softly at his words.

“Thanks to her uplink at the time, she _did_ also send me a message when she found out her father and I were talking,” he continued, keeping his gaze firmly on the huntsman. “She wanted to tell you she heard you when she was in standby, and 'no harm, no foul, is that right?'”

The words were like a shot to the back of his neck, and red eyes widened sharply. The breath stilled in his lungs at the tone of them, and he swore he could just about hear the light canter of her voice in her mind, imitating the very way she would say it to him; that ever-present smile upon her face.

Fingers squeezed his arm from where Ruby still sat alongside him, and he felt Yang do the same; mechanical fingers gently putting pressure on his knee as violet eyes lingered on his expression.

No one in the room may have known the significance of the words spoken to him, despite his very stilling reaction to them, but they knew enough of their uncle to put two and two together.

He blinked back at the man, maybe a little too quickly, ducking his gaze down to the floor, hiding maybe a tad too much of the heat that flushed to his cheeks, and the huff of a sound fell from him. It was a gentle little phrase, just like the girl herself, and he closed red eyes, letting the smile touch his lips.

Gods, but he couldn't fall apart here and now, not like this, and certainly not over such an innocuous little thing.

He brought his eyes back up to the operative, smiling warmly back at him. Clover could only see the staggering relief that shone behind those eyes, and something in his chest loosened at the sight. It was small, a little fractured, but the smile upon the huntsman's lips was all he ever needed to see, as he sat there surrounded by his family.

“Tell her she got it in one,” came the soft words, and he couldn't stop the faint breath of a laugh from slipping from him.

Clover nodded briefly at him, simply glad to see the return of the warmth in those eyes. He hadn't realised how much it ached behind his chest, until he was faced with those eyes all over again, and it pulled tight behind his heart.

As tightly guarded and as fiercely protective of his armour Qrow might've been, there was no guarding the way his eyes betrayed him every single time. It was something Clover was quickly learning about the huntsman. He was so utterly conditioned to hiding his heart that those eyes had become accustomed to speaking for him, and Clover was delicately learning the language they spoke.

Taking each word, and utterance, and glance, and breath, into his fingers and holding them tight between his fingers.

There was a short bout of laughter from the gathering in the room, and Clover realised with gentle clarity that he'd been staring straight at the man for a short time. He ducked his gaze away, feeling the gentle heat gathering at his collar as he was brought back to the room. Qrow, too, couldn't help the faint curl of his lips as he drew his attention back to his family, smiling at more than just their antics.

It still didn't stop red eyes from sneaking a final glance up at the man, warm smile eclipsing his entire expression.

Both of them were glad for the simple tone of light and laughter that flooded the room. Rather than a distraction for the dull ache of worry that ran beneath skin and bone, it was genuine. Bright. As all things with their family was.

Laughter spilled from them all, as stories and merriment was shared between them, and subtle tension began to bleed from bodies. One of their own had been hurt, so they did what they did best; they cared and loved so deeply that it smothered everything else in its wake, and the ache dulled to nothing more than the memory of a bruise.

Even as the night trickled about them – with more than once, a nurse having to duck their head in and gently shush them – conversation and lightness were their shield against the darkness.

They shifted and shuffled in their positions, each moving about the room as different discussions melded and rolled atop one another, and at one point, a couple of them had snuck off to get food for everyone from the cafeteria; littering snacks and sandwiches between them all like a tiny banquet. Clover found himself seated behind the huntsman, drawing him to lay languidly against his chest as he began to wind down and relax in a way that hadn't been there hours earlier. He felt the tension trickling from shoulders, and for now, where they both sat, it was enough.

The huntsman sought simple comfort in reclining against the chest pressed to his back, and in the arms wrapped loosely about his waist. He almost couldn't help but let eyelids flutter closed as he laid his head back against a shoulder, drinking in the man's warmth.

It was enough, right where he was, to keep the shadows from stilling at the back of his mind.

To keep the demons from slithering about his ankles once more.

Especially when there was a gentle squeeze about his stomach, and he returned to the room once more.

“You're seriously not thinking of drifting off with _this_ many eyes on you,” came the gentle murmur in his ear. Qrow found the smile spreading across his lips.

“Just resting 'em a little...” he breathed in response. Qrow felt the smile against the edge of his ear.

“You'll be mercilessly teased, you know.”

Qrow gave a faint snort. “Not my first rodeo with these brats.”

He still shifted upright a little as he stirred, feeling the way arms drew back a little, but hands still tightened ever so gently about his waist in response. He wasn't going anywhere far, they said. His own hand settled atop one, returning the soft hold.

I won't, it said in soft response.

“Uncle Qrow, if you're tired, you can just tell us.”

Yang's affectionately exasperated words filtered back to him, and he cast red eyes down to his niece, returning her soft smile as she sat on the floor alongside his bed.

“I mean, it's not like I did any heavy spelunking today or anything.”

Her laugh was soft and gentle, and she reached up to bap his knee with the back of her knuckles. Something brief and teasing; her own reprimand for his actions, he supposed.

“If you want to rest up for the night, that's more than okay,” Jaune added from where he sat with Ruby across the room. “We don't mind at all, especially now we know you're alright.”

Qrow had to admit, the offer was tempting, especially since he felt more than bone-weary from the entire day and all its events. The sigh had slipped from him before he'd even given it thought, and he reached up to run fingers through dark hair, carefully avoiding the swathe of fabric about his head.

“Well... I'm sure they've got places here for you guys to crash if you wanted,” he ventured. Clover gave a light hum from across his shoulder, distinctly casting the die as he chose his side.

“I can give you all temporary clearance until he's released.”

“That'd be wonderful, thank you,” Weiss told the man, realising the play of his words. “But, I think Jaune and Yang are right; we should let you rest up for the night and check in on you in the morning.” She was already standing, brushing herself down delicately as she made her way to the bed. The sigh was on her lips as she shook her head at the man, easy smile reaching her eyes. She reached up to place a hand to his shoulder, a note of cheek slipping into her expression.

“Just... make sure we know if there's any trouble _this_ time around, alright?” Anything he wanted to say was snatched away when she placed a quick kiss to his cheek. Oscar laughed softly as he also stood up, drawing in alongside her.

“Don't go giving us a scare like that for a while, hey?” The boy reached forward to give the huntsman a brief hug, and Qrow could only smile warmly back at him as he returned it gently, giving him a firm squeeze to go with it. From the simple actions of the two of them, it seemed it had been unanimously decided that they'd all leave him be for the night; he'd probably had more than enough of his share of overbearing teenagers and headaches for now.

And they really _were_ just a stone's throw and a scroll's call away if anything happened. It _did_ remind Qrow that he was going to have to see about getting a new scroll in the morning, too, and he got to his feet, intent on saying goodnight to each of them properly.

Clover clasped his hands together, elbows resting on his knees as he was freed and he watched each of the teams make their way to the mostly steady huntsman; drawing him into their arms, and surprising the operative lightly when they offered him the same. Qrow still leant heavily against the edge of the bed, and he gave a soft laugh as he was reluctantly pushed back down by Blake.

“Sit back down before you slide to the floor,” she told him sternly, unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

“You're getting as bossy as the rest of them, wildcat,” he laughed gently at her, and it brought the warm colour to her cheeks as she drew back, smiling broadly at him.

“Well, I learnt from the best,” she countered proudly.

The Faunus drew back as she returned to the rest of her team, and Qrow could only glance between them all. They all looked back at him with soft relief in their eyes, and he knew it would still be a little while before they all came down from the shock fully. It wasn't every day that one of their own was rescued and patched up from a mission gone awry, and they all worried with the force of a small galaxy about him.

Even if what they could see was superficial, and even if most of the lingering damage was a dance an age old to him, he knew they would fret until the sun came up.

That's what family was good for.

“Go on, all of you,” he told them with an affectionate rumble. “I'll be fine in the morning, you'll see.”

“You'd better be, mister.” Ruby smiled broadly back at him before turning her attention to Clover. “And you. You need to make sure he stays right here. No jailbreaks allowed, got it? I'll find out, and you won't like it when I find out.”

Clover could only return her smile as he sat upright, offering her a simple salute.

“Yes, ma'am. Subject will remain stationary for the duration of the mission,” he teased her easily, wringing the soft laugh from her.

“That's the spirit!” she told him brightly, pumping her fist in the air. “Thanks a bunch, you're the best Uncle Clo-”

Before the name had even finished crossing her lips, silver eyes had widened sharply and hands shot to her mouth, colour rampaging across her cheeks. Green eyes widened back at her as his own race of colour brushed across skin, mirroring that softly shocked expression.

Silence fell heavy upon the entire room in the face of her simple words, and all eyes found themselves turning to the girl, realising  _exactly_ what she'd intended to say. What she'd  _all but said._ Ruby had frozen entirely, unable to tear her eyes away from the operative as her mind furiously ground to a halt.

She hadn't meant to-

Oh gods-

And yet she did-

“... I, uh...”

She really  _did_ mean-

The breath of words from her did nothing to help restart her broken thoughts and fingers slowly withdrew from her mouth, curling lightly where her hands stayed.

“Um...”

Clover had barely placed boots to the floor as he stood, when the blind panic overtook the poor girl. There was a soft squeak of noise from her before there came a burst of wind and petals, flooding from the room as she took off from sight. Somewhere down the hall a nurse cried out in shock as she blistered past them and out of the infirmary.

The operative, along with everyone else in the room, could only stare after her as the full weight of her short words settled upon them. One by one, they all returned their gaze to the man, and it was only when Qrow glanced up at him that the soft snicker fell from his lips.

Green eyes slowly cast down to the huntsman, still wide and sporting a furious race of colour across his cheeks, and that soft snicker grew into a poorly hidden secret of giggles as they began to shake his entire frame.

Qrow's shoulders all but shook as he brought a hand to his mouth, unable to contain the laughter that spilled from him. His niece always did have a way with words, and he  _really_ had to wonder how long she'd been sitting on that one for. Given the way her reaction went, probably for a while, and it was  _not at all_ how she intended to say it.

She was more like her mother than she knew.

The huntsman could barely get his breath for the laughter that overtook him, bright and loud, not even seeming to care how it rang through his head. Clover could only watch him with stunned amazement, not really... having expected  _that._

He let the sigh slip from him, steadying and low, and he raised a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing lightly as the smile began to curl upon his lips.

It had... a nice ring to it.

Even if she hadn't said it properly.

The colour still sat across his cheeks as the quiet laugh slipped from him, a far cry from the mirth that had all but consumed the huntsman. Considering how the day had played out, he was still more than glad to see the return of that bright smile and wonderful laughter.

Now he just had the unexpected icing on the cake to go with it, and the warmth settled deeper into his chest.

“Well... least I know how fast she can move now...” he murmured to himself, and he glanced back at the rest of the teams, gently hesitant as he glanced over them. “Is she... going to be okay?” he asked in soft amusement.

Yang let the affectionate sigh slip from her, folding arms across her chest and shaking her head. “Oh she'll be fine after she curls up in embarrassment for a while. But... maybe we should go find her before she builds the world's biggest blanket pile to hide under.”

Weiss inclined her head to the girl, eyes following the floor. “Wouldn't be the first time...” she murmured. Blue eyes raised to the operative, a gentle smile upon her face. “We'll look after her, don't worry. You stick to your own mission for tonight.”

Clover could only offer her a brief nod, not really trusting himself to say anything further on the topic for now. The word felt... big. Clumsy on the back of his tongue, but it felt... good.

He kind of liked how it sounded.

Even if it...  _was_ going to take a while to wrap his head around the almost-said words. The stray thought brushed the back of his mind, and he was starkly reminded of words shared earlier that day, with the young woman's own sister.

He still felt fully confident in saying that Winter didn't know about their relationship, though to what he'd just heard Ruby say... Well... That was  _one_ way to realise how deeply entrenched in this family he was, and it brought the warm, lop-sided smile to his face once more.

Beside him, Qrow had finally remembered what it was like to breathe again, and he was reaching up, wiping the tears from his eyes. His sides were practically burning from the effort of laughing so hard. Oh  _gods_ it had been an age since she'd last done something to break him into a complete fit of laughter like that. It felt good to remember she still hadn't lost her touch.

He curled a hand to his stomach, realising vaguely that it  _hurt_ in all the right ways, and he drew his gaze back up to the operative once more. He could only hold his gaze for a moment before he had to turn away as the soft snort ripped from him, and he threatened to drown himself in laughter once more.

“Qrow, Clover, we'll ah...” Jaune's voice pulled them both back to the group, and the young man reached up to rub the back of his neck, smiling fondly at the two of them. “We'll... let you two get some rest. Don't worry about Ruby; we'll take care of her for now.”

“Tell her she's doing the family tradition proud,” Qrow replied simply. Yang widened her eyes at him before something struck her, and she snorted in bright laughter. Clover, too, felt the way the words hit him, and he couldn't stop the shot of laughter that fell from him. It was a memory pushed aside at the time, thanks to fear and worry, but he didn't think he could ever forget the sight of the huntsman panicking and _flying_ away from his startle.

Blake had to bundle up the snickering, giggling mess of a blonde and turn her towards the door, glancing over her shoulder at the two. “You two take care; we'll be back in the morning,” she told them, guiding her girlfriend out of the room as she lost her battle with laughter, the sound echoing loudly down the halls.

One by one, they all waved their goodbyes to the pair, smiles somewhat warmer. Fonder. Openly affectionate in a way they hadn't been before. Eyes shining with a delicate light that reflected something once hidden just beneath the surface.

Each of them now looked at the operative the same way they saw the huntsman.

As part of their family.

It was only when Clover felt fingers gently curl into his hand that he realised he'd been caught in his thoughts, staring at the door, and he turned his gaze back down to the huntsman.

A far cry from the mirth that had enveloped him, he saw in those red eyes a warmth that shone gently, just for him. The smile graced his lips as he stepped into the huntsman's space, between his legs as he sat on the bed, just content to watch him. Content to know he was here, happy, healthy for the most part.

But happy, nonetheless.

It was all he ever wanted to see in those eyes.

Fingers reached up to gently sift through what dark hair hadn't been covered by bandages, and Clover gently brushed the pad of his thumb over the faint lump that lay beneath. There was still a bump in the fabric; indicative of the tiny row of stitches there.

“Think it'll scar, _uncle?”_

Qrow's voice gently asked with that lop-sided smirk.

The operative gave a breathy laugh at the question. He unthreaded fingers from where they sat tangled together, and he smoothed his hand gently down a white shirt, settling at his side as he simply stood close to him. Watching the cheek in those eyes.

“Mm, I hope so,” he murmured in reply. That hand gave a faint squeeze to skin, and the angry red line that lay beneath fabric. “I think they're kind of... sexy.”

The simple words almost threw Qrow for a loop, and he couldn't help the soft hitch of his smile in response, the way warmth gathered at his collar. Red eyes ducked away for a heartbeat, allowing the breath of amusement to slip from him and he reached for the man's waist, settling hands onto fabric as he sought his words once more.

“Not something I thought I'd ever hear you say,” he told him quietly.

“What can I say, I know what I like,” came the gentle counter. Clover withdrew fingers from dark hair, letting them settle at the curve of the huntsman's jaw. A huff of a laugh was his reward, Qrow seeking the warmth of that touch.

“Nice to know you have a type after all.”

Clover could only smile warmly at him, smile blossoming across his entire expression as his thumb gently stoked a cheek.

“Yeah. You.”

The effect was soft and immediate as the warmth at Qrow's collar spread up his neck, those red eyes caught entirely by the way the operative was staring down at him. It still gently rattled him a little to hear the way those words were spoken to him – to  _him_ , of all people – and it was  _still_ taking some time to adjust to it.

Even if he knew what sat about his finger. Even if those soft words of declaration had already been shared between them. Even if he'd already found a world of comfort and deep understanding in  every single touch, and brush, and word, and steadying hold that had ever passed between them.

It still delicately surprised him, to know that this was something between them, and that he'd grown to enjoy the company of the man, no matter how many times he thought about this relationship of theirs.

This... relationship.

The two of them together, and he swallowed lightly at both how delicate the word sounded, and all at once so soul-crushingly heavy. Qrow knew he still had an ocean of thoughts to wade through when it came to broaching the topic with the man, and it did nothing to send his pulse singing into his ears. He knew he was still staring up at the man. His heart gave a discerning thud behind his ribs as red eyes flicked between green, and he wet his lips.

“Prove it.”

There came a soft breath of amusement at his request, and that warm smile broke into a grin. Clover brushed his thumb gently across his cheek once more.

“Now who's saying things unexpectedly...”

Qrow pressed his cheek into that gentle touch as red eyes closed, faint smile brushing across his lips. Seemed someone didn't like the tables being turned, and he glanced back up at the operative, giving in to the urge to be a complete brat.

“Just kiss me already,” he sighed affectionately.

And Clover could only accept.

Fingers slipped upwards from where they lay above an old scar, brushing along his neck and gently cupping his jaw in a mirror action to the first. With a delicate tilt of his head, Qrow met the softness of lips as they brushed against his own, tasting promised warmth as he drew a faint breath. Red eyes softly closed as he curled his fingers into material, and those lips kissed him tenderly.

It was gentle and unhurried, simply letting the feel of the other against him satisfy him in a way that had been far too scant earlier. Far too short. No, he needed this far more than he knew, and where one hand clutched tight at fabric, the other drew to the man's hand, covering it and feeling the heat bleed into his fingers.

They parted only a hairs breadth from one another, eyelids fluttering open to steal a glance, to know the other was there, to know it was real, and lips were stolen once more.

Qrow let fingers curl about the man's wrist, simply holding him there. For the second time, for as brief as they allowed it, lips drew apart as the huntsman pulled himself further onto the bed, watching green eyes as the man followed him.

Hands that had slipped away from skin pressed into clean linen, Clover guiding himself onto the bed as he crawled to the other. Qrow let his head hit the pillow as those lips teased their warmth to his, achingly close. The huntsman's fingertips found his cheek in a brief caress, and Clover felt the soft press of thighs as they brushed against hips. The ache of a sigh slipped between them, as he stole the kiss from those lips once more.

The huntsman curled fingers into a uniform front, all but clutching, all but telling him he was going nowhere else. It was a sudden demand to the other that surprised even him with its strength. He felt the echo of his heart in his throat, thudding with heady sensation in his ears and making his pulse sing in his senses. He breathed out from his nose in a shaky sigh, feeling the way fingers delicately brushed his cheek once more.

A tentative thing, soft and almost unsure as fingertips made their way to his chin, tucking gently underneath. There was hesitation in Clover's touch, and Qrow wanted nothing of the sort.

His own fingers unfisted from fabric, one hand travelling upwards to the open dip in his throat, pressing flat to warm skin and finding the column of his neck. Fingertips slipped into short brunet strands, curling there and wishing there was more to hold. Cool air brushed across his lips as they parted briefly; Clover taking a needed breath before Qrow was chasing him once more, the breath of a moan spilling from him.

What had begun as a simple whisper brought both of them together in a crash, and Clover found himself trembling against the huntsman. Felt it start deep in his stomach and tremor its way to his chest, binding him tight where he stayed. The sigh of breath fell upon Qrow's lips and fingertips settled delicately against a cheek.

It was when the shaky draw of breath hitched against his lips that dark brows furrowed in faint stirring, and Qrow barely had a heartbeat of time to collect his thoughts, eyes slivering open.

The first tear fell against his cheek, and in sudden sobering, red eyes finally saw the man before him. He stilled where he lay, and he withdrew a hand from short hair, pressing it to the man's cheek in sudden concern, thumb tentatively brushing at the thin trail of moisture upon skin.

“Cloves, hey...”

The breath was still warm against the man's lips as green eyes searched his own, brow furrowed above them as the operative stared down at him. Hesitation swam deep in those eyes, and Clover couldn't stop the way fingertips tightened into linen, feeling that lingering ache from the night twist further in his chest. The curse was ripe on the man's tongue and he swallowed it down as he closed his eyes, pressing into the warm touch at his cheek, shame burning through his expression.

“... I... sorry, I...”

The words were enough to pull the ache through his chest, but it was the very tone of them that tore at Qrow's heart, and he brought his other hand up in a mirror of the first. Fingertips brushed along Clover's cheek, wanting those anguished eyes to meet his own.

There came a soft huff of a laugh against his lips, and that fractured smile bore down upon him like a shiv.

“... just relieved, I guess...” he murmured, swallowing against the tightness in his throat; the heat behind his eyes. “Didn't... just wasn't...”

Qrow slipped his hands to the back of the man's neck, pulling him down gently to lay with him, curling arms about him as he encouraged Clover to do the same. He barely had to ask. He felt a hand settle at the hem of a white shirt briefly, fingertips still holding their faint tremor as they slipped underneath to press against skin; seeking the direct contact they needed.

The huntsman let his free hand drift along the curve of his arm, settling atop the man's hand and letting the heat from fingers bleed into him.

Clover let out the shaky breath against the curve of his neck, feeling the growing crash of emotions tear through him as he held him so close, kept him there almost too tightly. It was there once more, he knew. It was there once more, under his skin and gripping him like a vice.

It had been there for hours now, and all it took was a single kiss to unravel him entirely.

“When I saw it, I...” the words slipped from him, tumbling out in a single breath. It took a steadying inhale, held for a moment in lungs, let out in a trembling breath as fingertips sifted through short hair, before he could continue. “All I saw was the words, and I couldn't... I froze.”

_Scroll inactive. Rescue mission. Infirmary._

He felt fingers thread into hair, holding him close, and he chanced a glance up at the huntsman. Those red eyes stared back at him with an ache so deep it all but shattered him, and the trembling breath fell from him as heat burned behind his eyes.

“For the longest time, I...”

Those red eyes ducked from sight as lips were pressed to his forehead, lingering warm and true against skin. The hand covering his own slipped away to press to his cheek, thumb brushing across skin. Letting him know he was here. Letting him know he was safe. Letting him know it was real. Green eyes closed at the sensation, and he swallowed through a tight throat. He knew it was a useless spill of relieved emotions. He  _knew it_ _,_ and still all Qrow could do was let him pour it out upon his shoulder.

The shaky smile came to him, and he wondered what had happened in his life to deserve this. For someone who had initially come to the huntsman with the simple promise of a gentle listener, an extended hand, a friendship, he quickly found the tables turned upon him. Like a shard of glass, the huntsman had buried himself under his skin and he soon found himself in the utterly precarious position of being the one so broken and open.

It still startled him with its force, but now he knew where it came from, and there was no losing himself entirely to it. It was simply a matter of acknowledging it and letting it run its course through him. Letting it leave him shaky and raw against the huntsman.

Warmth slipped away from his cheek and he acutely felt fingers thread into his, curling almost automatically against them, holding tightly and feeling the way they were a steady anchor in his storm.

“If anyone has to say sorry, it's me...” came the breath against his forehead, wringing him back to the present. He felt the faint curl of lips upon his skin. “Busted my scroll in the fall... and... probably had something to do with Elm breaking her communicator. But... it's kind of funny...”

Clover drew his gaze up to those red eyes, finding they held the same burning anguish within them of tears unshed. The smile he wore was hardly broken; a faint brush of pure adoration that made his chest ache in a way that hurt all the more.

But still those eyes betrayed him.

“If the last thing I ever got to say to you was I love you... I think that'd be okay...”

The soft chuff of a laugh fell from Clover, and despite himself, felt something in his chest loosen. Felt something settle as they lay together. He buried his face into the curve of Qrow's neck, skin warm against his own.

“You do _not_ get to joke about that...” he murmured, drawing the breathy laugh from the huntsman.

“No, but admit it; it was romantic,” Qrow pressed gently. Clover couldn't stop the laughter that settled into his skin, feeling it tremble through his shoulders as he buried his face further from sight. He stole a chaste kiss from skin, and fingers squeezed gently within his own.

“You scared the absolute life out of me,” the man countered, mumbled against skin. “I had _no idea_ anything had happened until Ruby called me.”

The words were a gentle full stop to whatever soft humour lay on his tongue, and he turned to press lips to brunet hair. He knew exactly where Clover was coming from, and he felt the vague rise of frustration in his throat as he realised he'd fallen back to old habits. Tried to brush it off with humour. Tried to shield himself from thinking of it any certain way.

Tried to deflect both of them from it, masterfully.

There came a lingering sigh against his skin, and Qrow squeezed fingers gently, feeling the press of rings between them. Let fingertips trace idly circles in short hair as red eyes sought the wall absently.

“Feel... kind of silly for worrying...” the murmur reached Qrow's ears, and his brows pinched at the delicate note of shame strung through them. 

“Don't be...” he breathed against brunet hair.

Another gentle pause of hesitation, and Clover closed his eyes as he waged a silent war with the words on his tongue. He wanted to give it voice, but he knew it was just another verse in the song he'd already recited for the huntsman. He didn't need to hear it.

His brow furrowed lightly, gently halting his thoughts.

On the other hand, he distinctly realised, Qrow was the only one to have been there for him when the walls came tumbling down the first time. He'd been the anchor he sorely needed at the time, and up to that point, he'd been nothing but utterly open and honest with him. Qrow had brought him so much needed stability in his life, when to all outward appearances, his life had already been so solid.

Qrow had... he'd been the one to expertly flip everything on its ear when Clover had been the one to first extend his hand to the man.

Green eyes opened once more, lashes brushing skin from how close he had buried himself next to the huntsman. He gave those fingers a gentle squeeze, parting his lips to draw a gentle breath.

“For the longest time, I had nothing to go on. No details. No... no idea...” he murmured, plucking at his words from earlier. Snatching at them before they could falter. “Until I knew anything, I thought... I'd lost you. And it...”

He felt part of his resolve waver, felt the tightness twist further into his chest, and he swallowed it down. Focused on the feeling of fingertips sifting through his hair and threaded with his own.

The almost curt sigh fell from him.

The words he'd spoken that felt so long ago, with a smile of such resolution and determination as rings sat heavily in his pocket.

_ A question both of us already know the answer to... _

He swallowed again, forcing out the way the memory sat in the forefront of his mind, eating at him and calling him nothing but a liar. The word burned across his tongue and seared with heat behind his eyes.

“It scared me. Scared the absolute _hell_ out of me...”

The breathed reiteration tumbled from him, and he heard the steady echo of his heart in his ears. Rather than the tumbling crash from earlier that smothered him, this still felt... shaky. A little rickety. But something that left him still standing. Heat still burned at the back of his throat and behind his eyes, and his breath still stuck in his chest, and the words left him feeling raw and razed, but...

He'd said them.

He almost felt the smile from the huntsman against his hair, and fingers stilled in their gentle circles. It almost drove him to worry if it weren't for the way those fingers within his squeezed ever so softly.

“... m'right here, Cloves...”

Qrow drew back enough to whisper lips across the man's forehead, green eyes fluttering closed at the gentle brush.

Clover untangled fingers from the huntsman, letting fingertips skirt lightly along his stomach and almost eliciting a faint jump from him as they made their way up to his neck. He pulled back lightly, meeting red eyes, searching them for a moment, as his hand settled at the curve of his cheek.

The huntsman followed the gentle press of that hand, reaching up to cover it, keeping it close to skin. He allowed the faint brush of a smile to gather at his lips, not wanting to lose sight of those eyes.

“... m'not going anywhere...”

The operative felt the gentle stir of memories at the words, and his own smile returned to him as a thumb stroked his cheek gently. No more words needed to cross his tongue, they both knew, and he took in a steadying breath, letting it sit deep in his chest for a long moment.

It sighed out of him, and all he wanted to do was feel those lips against his, warm and reassuring.

So he kissed him deeply.

Let the rest of his words settle in the back of his mind.

And decided to never let go again.


	29. Bring to Light and Bare to All

Dawn touched another day.

The sky was streaked with thin wisps of mauve clouds as they sat high above the alpine winds; trailing their tails through the air. The burn of dawning colour brushed upon lingering dark velvet as sunlight began to capture the day once more, chasing away the last vestiges of night.

Time pressed on, marching to the tune of its own beat, and time was exactly the reason for the curse that sat upon the Faunus' tongue.

Marrow rubbed at his brow in irritation as he strode deeper into the depths of the Academy. Frustration was nipping at his thoughts and he knew that time was fast becoming a sour friend of his. Gods, but he just kept  _missing_ his chances, and he hadn't caught up to the Captain at all since yesterday, and now he was marked as temporarily inactive-

Light blue eyes resisted the urge to roll as the sigh fell from him. It was beyond annoying for him, and he knew he'd simply have to bide his time until he could find him in a quiet moment.

For now, he had a teammate to harass.

He could give as good as he got, after all, and he waved pleasantly at the reception staff of the infirmary as he made his way further into those winding halls. With any luck, he'd manage to catch her still sleeping off her rather remarkable escape, giving him even more ammunition to tease her mercilessly for doing something as stupidly simple as  _slipping on the ice._

The soft snuffle of laughter fell from him, and he fished for his scroll, tapping it lightly to the coded lock of the door.

Eyes followed his hand as he tucked it back into his pocket, and he almost bodily collided with the person on the other side. The splutter of an apology was already on his lips, all thoughts of taunting and teasing flooding from him in a rush.

And he froze.

Light blue eyes went wide and he couldn't believe his  _luck-_

He drew in a sharp breath of surprise, unable to stop the reaction and blue eyes widened evermore. Oh  _gods_ _,_ but he was  _still covered-_

Clover couldn't stop the laugh from spilling out as he brought a steadying hand to the young man's shoulder.

“We have _got_ to stop meeting like this,” he told him simply, stepping back a little to give him some space. “But since you're here, good news; Elm's just finishing breakfast, and it sounds like she'll be released afterwards.”

Marrow snapped back to the world around him, clearing his throat softly. Right. Yes. Elm. That's- that's what he was here for.

“That's... good to hear. She gave us a pretty good scare,” he answered, forcing his brain to kick-start once more. The huff of a laugh fell from him, and he shook his head lightly. “I don't think I've ever seen Vine's eyes go so wide; you missed a good one there, boss.”

Clover laughed gently with him, and the sound settled gently in the hall about them.

The Faunus let light blue eyes skirt over him, hearing his heartbeat echo lightly in his head. It seemed that luck was  _definitely_ in his court, because here he was, finally alone with the man after so many missed chances and interrupted conversations. Well... it wasn't as if fate had given him any better opportunities yet, and he wet his lips.

“Actually, since you're here, I was hoping... we could pick up where we left off yesterday?” he ventured lightly.

Green eyes matched the smile on the young man's face, and Clover reached up to settle a hand to his shoulder once more.

“That sounds good. I was just about to go get some coffee.” He began walking with him, letting his hands settle at his sides once more. “I'm guessing since you're here at the crack of dawn, you've already had your first?”

Marrow parted his lips to reply, glancing over at the man, before the teasing note of those eyes made him hesitate. The smile broke across his lips and he turned away once more. Cheeky.

“Well yeah. I was going to rub it in Elm's face that I got the good stuff while she's stuck here with the barely passable stuff they serve upstairs,” he laughed softly at his own words, and the man beside him joined in easily.

“You're not kidding,” Clover conceded. “But, at the end of the day, it's caffeine, and it does the job, so I'm not going to complain about that.”

“I mean, you can and you should,” came the instant counter, drawing the snort from the man.

“Fair point, alright.”

“Wouldn't even use it to fuel the Mantas some days...”

Clover couldn't stop the bright laughter from spilling over if he tried, and he reached up to rub at his eyes lightly. He really  _ did  _ enjoy the utterly dry outlook the young man could present his facts with, and it never failed to bring the smile to his face.

“That's terrible, I hope you know,” he told him, still grinning. “So anyway... what's on your mind? Sorry we didn't get the chance to catch up last night, but, well, we both know what happened.”

Marrow nodded lightly as they walked, worrying his bottom lip for a moment. It  _ had _ been a surprise alright, and a simple reminder that for all their skills and training, there were always bigger things that could threaten them. Always something else that swung the bigger hammer.

The sigh touched his lips, and he lowered his gaze to the ground, brows furrowing lightly. No, he couldn't hesitate. He  _ had  _ to tell him. They drew to a stop at a little waiting area; nothing more than a nook of a room in the hall, scattered with a few chairs and books with well-thumbed pages. A vending machine in the corner, and Clover beelined for the coffee machine alongside it.

“So that... that scent,” Marrow began, hearing his heart thud in his ears as he watched the operative's hands.

“Mm, you said you found the source,” Clover replied absently pouring them both a cup. “It sounds like it's been on your mind a while now.” He stirred in milk and sugar, something to at least improve the flavour, and handed one to the young man.

Marrow curled his fingers about it, letting heat sift into skin as he drew a steadying breath. Hesitation thudded behind his sternum, matching the pounding beat of his heart, and he wet his lips lightly. Pale blue eyes drew up to green as the man lifted his coffee up to take a sip.

“It's Qrow Branwen.”

Soft, simple, just like ripping a bandaid, and eyes flickered away for a heartbeat.

“He's... your scent.”

It was as if time had turned sour on him all over again, for the man across from him had all but frozen entirely where he stood. The only sign of movement came from the vague straightening of his back as the news struck, the soft widening of those eyes as the news processed, the faint parting of those lips as the news hit a home run upstairs.

Marrow drew in the soft breath in horrid anticipation, holding it tight in his chest before time clamoured forward once more, unable to tear his gaze from the man.

The cup in Clover's hand dropped like a stone and before the man could even react, the Faunus had whipped a hand out, snatching it deftly; nearly saving it from spilling entirely across the floor and burning either of them. The breath he'd held tight in his chest slipped out of him like a curse, and he whipped his gaze up at the man as he slowly stood upright.

Clover still seemed utterly caught, and he realised it. His brain suddenly kicked back into gear and he blinked a few times, absently extending a hand towards his cup, feeling the heat burn across his cheeks as his faculties returned.

“... good... good catch...” he breathed, entirely absent, swallowing through a suddenly tight throat. Reality raced to bring him up to speed with everything that had just happened in the last few seconds, and it all crashed together with the _implications_ of what he'd just heard in the last few seconds.

Marrow could only stare back at the complete mental dishevelment the man was going through, and his own thoughts began to screech to a halt as light blue eyes widened. He all but thrust the cup back into the man's hand, sudden embarrassment flooding through his entire expression.

“Sorry, I-! But you-” he cut himself off, dropping his gaze to the floor before clenching his eyes tight, shoulders bunching and unable to spit out what he wanted to say. “You just- You deserved to know! And I'm sorry if it's... not... what you wanted to hear, but it's the truth, and-”

A hand fell to his shoulder, effectively silencing the Faunus, and he darted his gaze back up to the man. Those eyes were still widened gently, and all wheels were viciously turning behind them, but he was... settling on the news. More than that, he was –

“Marrow, are... are you okay?”

– asking him something that wasn't even in the same _universe_ as his own thoughts.

Clover cleared his throat softly, the faint furrow crossing his brow as he ducked his gaze down briefly.

“You, uh... your hand,” he continued, still sounding a little lost. “When you caught...”

Marrow blinked back at him, a little thrown by the series of events, and he glanced down at his hand. In a sudden snap of realisation and with a sharp curse on his tongue he saw that coffee had split across the back of his hand entirely, and he hissed sharply, shaking his hand as the sting of a burn ran through skin. Alright, he probably deserved that one, and he bit his lips softly as he glanced back up at the man.

Clover watched him go through his sudden reboot, and it forced him through his own, letting the faint snuffle of amusement slip from him. He could only hold that gaze for a moment longer before he ducked green eyes away, clearing his throat softly as the smile brushed across his expression. He stepped out of the young man's space, placing his coffee down to grab a bottle of water from the vending machine.

The Faunus could only watch the man with vague amazement, and he rapidly tried to process what he was seeing. Clover had... reacted with vicious startle, granted, but... he'd recovered almost masterfully. He'd... well, now he was  _ laughing  _ at him.

“You're... pretty accepting of this, boss...” he breathed aloud in wonder.

The operative plucked the cup from those fingers, exchanging it for the chilled bottle, and Marrow placed it gently to the back of his hand. It was only a light burn; something his aura would take care of in a matter of hours.

The man could only part his lips, finding his words a little caught on his tongue for a moment. Though it still couldn't keep the gentle smile from his expression.

“I guess... because we've both accepted it for a while now,” he told him simply.

Marrow held his gaze for a moment before letting it duck away, processing it. Then that was... that explained it. He was... gods, he was  _ right _ _._ He'd been right on the money ever since he met Qrow the day before. He wet his lips and met that gaze once more.

“So you, uh... you two really are...”

The laugh was gentle on Clover's lips as he reached for his own coffee, taking a short sip. It still tasted passable, even if it was sweeter than what he preferred. He cleared his throat softly, letting eyes linger on the surface of the liquid, still wearing that smile.

“Yeah.” Succinct and amused. “Yeah, we are.”

Marrow's brows went to his hairline.

“ _Oh_.”

A beat of time, a crinkle of a plastic bottle as it shifted.

“Well. Uh... Guess that explains that.” The amused sound slipped from him, and he found about thirty different things crossing his tongue all at once. First and foremost though, he had to know what boundaries had been set. It _really_ wouldn't be appropriate to broach this kind of topic in front of someone unawares. “So... who... else knows?”

Clover lingered over his coffee for a moment, letting the breath slip from him. “Ah... his family. The teams, that is. Pietro Polendina. And you.”

Brows furrowed. “That's a... pretty light list, sir,” he murmured. Alright, so it was to be kept quiet for now, he assumed. “And ah... no offence, but... this...  _ really _ isn't a recent thing between you two, is it?”

The man had to raise a brow at the simple question, and Marrow steeled himself as he reached up to tap the side of his nose.

“Just... something to remember in future, but... a scent doesn't get _that_ deeply ingrained upon you without some _pretty_ constant contact,” he explained.

Clover felt the breath still on his tongue, and the implications of those words hit home. The race of colour across his cheeks returned in a blaze, and he found great interest in the surface of his coffee. Alright, so he was  _ definitely _ filing that fact away for a later date, and he all but slammed back the remainder of the hot liquid.

“We just... haven't found the right time to bring it up,” he told him simply, eyes firmly fixed on his empty cup. “To anyone, really. Those that know, simply found out because we're not... we're not trying to _hide it_ from anyone. And it's not...” He bit his dying words off with a short sigh, already tasting the lie on his tongue. “It doesn't interfere with who we are, as huntsmen.”

The operative knew the words were utterly contrary to the truth that sang in his heart. He knew it without a doubt.

It was the very reason he'd all but dropped everything at his feet as soon as he'd heard what had happened. The very reason why he'd told his superiors he was to be marked inactive for however long it took his partner to be released.

It interfered with who they  _ both  _ were as huntsmen so deeply it  _ hurt. _

Marrow listened to the words, soft and halting. It sounded... so unlike the man he knew, and it struck him gently that this...  _ really  _ must have meant something to him. He'd always managed to be friends with the man, but there was always a level of professionalism between the two of them; some wall that would always be in place between them.

But to hear him now, as he was, it was... almost jarring. He was speaking so openly with him. Opening his heart to him in a way he'd never heard before.

Whatever Qrow had done to the man before him, it was... utterly apparent.

He lowered his gaze to the floor, feeling something in his stomach twist lightly. It was something he hadn't seen or – gods, felt himself – since his days as a cadet. And it was drippingly obvious as the man stood across from him.

He swallowed lightly, weighing the words in his mind.

Light blue eyes drew up to the man, his friend, Clover, and he waited until those eyes met his finally.

“You... really love him, don't you?”

Those green eyes never widened in startle. Instead, they drifted away, just for a moment, as the words played behind them once more. And Marrow watched the simple journey as his friend drew in a slow breath, letting it settle in his chest before allowing it to softly fall from him. And the first brush of that faint smile began to cross his lips.

An insignificant little thing.

Unassuming, and faint.

It was a mere flicker of an expression, softening his edges  and warming him entirely as those eyes returned to him once more.

“I do...” he told him softly. “Quite a lot.”

The smile spread further across his expression, something warm and almost tinting on bashful, and Marrow almost felt like he was seeing a different person entirely standing before him. He could only mirror that warm smile as he tucked the water bottle into a coat pocket, reaching up to rest his hand on the operative's shoulder.

“Then for gods sake, don't  _ ever  _ make me stress about something like that  _ ever again. _ _”_ At the gentle words, Clover's expression shattered immediately, and the snort ripped from him. “Seriously! You nearly made me go  _ grey  _ overnight! I thought you were gonna be  _ fired  _ if people found out!” The operative could only laugh brightly at the Faunus, and it tore from him, bright and loud.

He brought a hand to his mouth, unable to stifle the sound  _ at all _ , and it shook through his shoulders. Clover could only shake his head as he met those eyes, and he took a moment to bring himself back down, clearing his throat.

“Don't worry about that,” he finally told him, holding up a hand. “With everything going on right now, I know exactly where I'm needed. I'm not going to do anything to jeopardise that.”

He took in a needed breath, Marrow dropping his hand and shaking his head at him.

“Well, good!” he told him, soft laugh cantering from him. “So... any plans for telling everyone else?”

Clover ran his hand to the back of his neck. “I guess we haven't really thought about it too hard, just... letting the dice fall where they please, really,” came the simple explanation. It did nothing but bring the snort from his friend, and he caught sight of Marrow rolling his eyes.

“You're seriously leaving it up to luck? Yeah, that's not like you  _ at  all, _ boss.”

“I said nothing of the sort,” Clover jabbed back, still smiling at him.

The Faunus could only smirk back at him, reaching for what was left of his coffee and taking a swig from it. Brows perked upwards, not believing him for a second.

“Sure you didn't...”

***

The satisfied sigh of relief always brushed past his lips when Harbinger slid into place at the small of his back. Its weight had always brought no small amount of comfort to him, heavy and sure alongside him through the years, and Atlas was doing it's best to keep him reminded of this fact, it seemed.

Thankfully, he'd been cleared with nary a fuss, and the doctor had barely left the room before he started gathering his things together. He hated being cooped up; particularly in  _ these  _ kind of places.

Fingers idly reached up, ensuring his cloak was properly secure before they continued up to his forehead and what was left in the wake of the now removed bandage.

“Leave it alone,” Clover's voice intoned from the other side of the bed, the man not having even looked up from his scroll.

“It itches,” Qrow told him simply, still vaguely annoyed that even the simple act of frowning pulled at stitches.

The operative allowed the faint smile to curl at the edge of his lips, and green eyes finally met his. The sigh brushed across his tongue, moot exasperation threading from him as he tucked his scroll away and walked languidly to the huntsman.

_ “ And  _ if you worry it too much, it'll scar for sure.”

Qrow offered him a lop-sided smirk, fingers reaching for the front of a uniform as he stepped into his space. Red eyes flicked down to his hands as they made their way up to a chest; one settling atop the curve of a shoulder as the other tracked almost too easily to the back of the man's neck, teasing the start of short brunet strands.

“Last I heard, you thought they were...  _ kind of sexy _ _...”_ he intoned, soft and low into the space between them.

The operative conceded the point with closed eyes and a brief raise of his brows.

“I know what I said,” he replied simply. “But I also don't want to have to put up with you complaining that it hurts when you pick at it too much.”

Qrow snorted softly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Please, I'm not  _ at all  _ like the rest of my family.”

Green eyes lingered pointedly on his before a hand reached up to rest along the one at his chest, fingertips circling exactly where he knew a small scar lay at the base of fingers. A faint line of marred skin. Something years old; a training accident from Beacon. Summer had gushed apologies at him for  _ weeks  _ afterwards, and every time he'd laughed and ruffled her hair. Brushed it off and deflected it. Couldn't resist scratching at it as it healed.

He still had his fingers, it was no big deal, he'd told her.

Clover had laughed at the story at the time, and curled his hand across it gently; glad that he did as well.

“Are you  _ so sure _ about that?”

The words had their desired effect, and red eyes flicked back down to the soft tease of fingertips. He sighed through his nose, brow furrowing faintly and pulling lightly at stitches.

“That was  _ one time .” _

“So this one over here was..?”

Fingers drew away to brush along the tiny tassels of a white shirt.

“Alright,  _ that one _ was an accident; can't help if I scratch in my sleep.”

Clover couldn't keep the smile from his expression, and he let his forehead rest gently against the other's, careful of the thin line of stitches that touched the edge of a fringe.

“Poor impulse control? That's not like you at all.”

Qrow laughed at him, soft and breathy as fingers curled further into brunet strands.

“Wouldn't be the worst complaint I've ever had filed against me...” he murmured, smile easy on his lips. Fingers upon a chest brushed further upwards, finding the open dip of a uniform and tracing along warm skin to rest upon a cheek. “I think we can both live with that one, though.”

The operative could only smile further at him, drawing back faintly to brush his nose gently to the huntsman's. He always did like the banter they shared; something soft and easy, and all but filling him with warmth.

It also tugged at the back of his mind that something like this could so easily be snatched from him, and that delicate fear wanted to bury itself in the forefront of his mind so desperately.

He refused to let it take root, knowing exactly where he stood on the issue, and he let hands wind themselves about the huntsman's waist.

“Prove it.”

Red eyes downright sparkled with the mirth behind them at hearing his own words used so succinctly against him. He also found he had no reason to deny him, and he let smiling lips press gently to Clover's.

He felt fingers curl further against him, holding him firm, and it was a subtle thing, almost missed, if he wasn't already vastly used to understanding the man's language. It had been an unspoken thing; something barely perceptible, and Qrow was almost downright surprised that neither of his  _ nieces _ had noticed it the night before.

The way that the operative never seemed to break contact with him all through the night. The way that fingers stayed threaded with his almost at all times. The way idle patterns were traced upon skin as they lay together in the early hours of the day. The way he had kissed him so tenderly, hesitation seeping through every touch and brush and whisper.

No, Clover had been scared.

And Qrow could think of nothing better than to let him hold on as tight as possible. Assuring him he was here and he was safe and it was real.

He curled fingers further into short strands, feeling the sigh against his mouth, and the way that the man's own hands travelled further about his waist. He felt them track across the small of his back, knuckles brushing against Harbinger. One stayed firmly there, as the other dragged further up his spine, deep and languid, burying itself further under his cloak.

The huntsman couldn't help the gentle moan that slipped from him, and his own fingers drifted gently from the curve of a cheek, settling at the warm column of the man's neck. It still amazed him how utterly warm the man always was; how his skin seemed to be all but conditioned to live in this kind of climate. He generated a warmth of his own, strong enough to stave off any sort of cold weather.

He'd probably take great delight in discovering how crisp fall was in Patch, though Qrow could just  _ imagine  _ the grousing at finding out how sticky summer could be.

Almost at once, the thought nearly wanted to draw both the soft laugh from him, and the flush of warmth to his own skin. It... would be something else to be able to show him what the rest of the world was like.

He felt the burn of heat across his cheeks, his heart giving a telling thud behind his ribs. It felt almost silly to allow such a simple notion to excite him so much, but he couldn't find it in himself to care too much about it. It was something he desperately wanted to do, no matter how long it would take.

If he was being honest with himself, he'd wanted to do it ever since that night at the noodle shop.

Red eyes slivered open.

He just... wanted to give Clover the world.

He brushed his thumb against skin, and heard the gentle moan spill across his senses like so much heady ambrosia, and eyes closed once more. He wanted to give him so much more, but for now, this... this would do.

Emotions and thoughts were tangled together so tightly that it blanketed them from the world around them, and it was a welcome vacation from everything that had happened in the last few days.

Vacations were always short-lived, however, and both of them had the unfortunate luxury of missing the telling sound of heels making their way past the room. It was something brief; there and gone once more.

Nothing more than someone passing by.

If luck had been on their side, that was.

_ “Captain Ebi!” _

The sharp snap of a voice was like the crack of a rifle, and both of them jolted apart like they'd been scalded, eyes ripping towards the door in startle.

Oh  _ gods . _

_ Winter. _

Ice blue eyes were wide in shock, unable to even  _ think _ of where to start. At her side, brows also raised at the sight, blue eyes dipping between the pair of them and lips parted slightly, James stood, rapidly trying to process all that he saw.

Clover felt the horrendous burn of colour across his skin, and he could only tear his gaze immediately away from his superiors, standing rigidly upright and tucking his hands behind his back as he found  _ great  _ interest in the ceiling.

Scrambling to look everything like his screamed title, and  _ not at all  _ like a flustered cadet caught behind the stands with his crush.

Even the huntsman seemed to be sharing his sentiments, and he cleared his throat softly, hands slipping into his pockets as he glanced away from the pair, skin flushed at his collar. Much like Clover, he didn't even know how to find his voice, and he sought the relative safety of simply keeping his mouth shut and his eyes firmly  _ away  _ from the man's superiors.

Winter didn't even know  _ which way  _ to look, and ice blue eyes were darting between the two of them, mouth agape and composure completely shattered.

“What in the  _ gods names  _ is the  _ meaning  _ of this?” It was the only thing her mind could muster, having been fiercely presented with the image of the two of them, and the huntsman couldn't resist sending her a faint glare from behind coloured cheeks.

He bit back the sigh on his tongue and glanced away again, settling his hands firmly on his hips and looking every part the sullen, scolded teenager, and not the capable and functioning adults they  _ both  _ were.

“... thought it looked pretty obvious to me...” he murmured under his breath.

Clover almost wanted to elbow him in the ribs, and he resisted the urge to glare at him.

Oh now was _not_ the time for him to be a brat.

Winter found herself almost deflating at the mumbled words, and she reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, something akin to raw exasperation flooding through her. It was only when a hand fell to her shoulder that the heavy sigh fell from her, and she felt the tension trickle a little from her spine.

How long had he-

How long had they  _ both- _

At her side, James could only stifle the soft laugh that wanted to escape him, and he glanced between huntsman and operative. Blue eyes lingered on his friend once more, and he felt the warmth of his own smile settle further into him. Well... at least it seemed they'd stumbled upon the cause for the rather welcome change in Qrow's life.

“Captain.”

A softer call of his title, a gentle olive branch, and green eyes blinked, darting to the floor instead, still not meeting either of their gazes.

“I'm... relieved to see Qrow's feeling a lot better after yesterday's incident, too. But if you don't mind, I'll stick with shaking his hand.”

At the subtle words, Qrow's visage cracked entirely, and the snicker of laughter threatened to break from him. His lips quirked wryly, and he had to duck a hand up to cover his mouth briefly, chasing it away. Clover cleared his throat softly, still keeping his eyes firmly on the ground.

“Sir, uh... yes, that... sounds good.”

Gods above and below, but he was getting a little worn out from all these surprises lately. At least, his mind immediately reasoned, now he didn't have to worry about  _ how  _ he was going to tell the two he was most concerned with.

No, no, there was just trying to pick up his broken and shattered ability to speak up from the floor.

And Qrow was  _ laughing _ at him.

The huntsman stole a glance at the operative, smirk still small and fond, before he turned his attention to the General. Words were kind of lost to him for a moment before he relaxed his stance, gesturing lightly with a hand.

“Well, uh... surprise, I guess?” the huntsman offered jovially. James' shoulders shook with hidden laughter, and he sighed at his friend as he stepped into the room.

Blue eyes glanced over at the operative, wondering idly how something like this had slipped under his radar entirely. Perhaps Qrow had a bigger influence on him than he first thought when teaming them up.

Clearly he did, as the obvious suggested.

“Captain, at ease.”

Clover did not feel at ease  _ at all,  _ despite the rather gentle tone that came from the man.

“I'll admit, it's... probably not what either of us expected,” he continued softly, keeping his eyes on his friend. “But... I think now I understand why you seemed surprised when I told you that you appeared happier.” The gentle brush of a laugh left him, and Qrow could only return it with a smile of his own, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Ah... yeah, I guess so,” the huntsman replied with a faint laugh. “It's... been good for me.” More than being nervous for himself, he was suddenly intimately concerned about how this revelation would reflect on Clover. For all outward appearances, it seemed to be going well, but he also knew from a vast depth of experience that appearances were always deceiving.

Red eyes caught the way Clover had been glancing at him, and his smile grew fond, not even attempting to hide it.

“Been... good for the both us.”

Clover could only feel the way the words sang in his chest, all but smothering the thud of adrenaline in his veins as his expression warmed. It really  _ had  _ been good for him, more than the huntsman probably knew. Despite himself, despite the company they kept, he found himself almost tentatively reaching for a hand; fingers brushing lightly at his side before they threaded together delicately.

The General could only give a faint nod of gentle understanding, barely perceptible, as they seemed lost to one another for a moment. At his side, Winter released the soft breath that she'd held tight in her chest like a vice.

Her heart still hammered in her chest, and she drew her gaze up from where fingers tangled together, glancing between the pair of them. Rather than white-hot anger, or indignation, she felt that her reaction had simply come from something else entirely. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on, despite knowing it was  _ neither  _ of those two emotions.

The deep-seated shock was the likely culprit, and as her mind resurfaced beyond what she was presented with, it soon started to trickle into sharp realisation.

Ice blue eyes strayed upon Clover, and her own words came starkly back to her mind, now feeling more like a blinding slap at her own obliviousness than anything else.

_ He's changed quite a lot over these last few years; certainly over these last few weeks. _

She drew in a deeper breath, letting it settle over her as their shared words came cantering back to her. Words once chosen carefully and gently, and whilst she'd harboured notions of a sort, it was now ridiculously obvious in hindsight. Clover had been speaking from his heart, just as she had, and he still never said...

She wanted to bite her lip, and her own words came rushing back to haunt her.

_ They seem to always choose with their hearts, something that I wish I had the l uxury of. _

Clover had done just that. He'd allowed himself to choose, and the results were startlingly clear. For both of them, just as they'd been told.

“Clover.”

The gentle call of his name, not his title, was what brought his eyes up to hers, and he could only blink back at her. Qrow and James, too, both softly surprised at the informal tone from the otherwise strictly regimented woman.

Her gaze never wavered as she stared straight back at him, and Clover could only feel a little concerned that somehow, in some way, he was about to be utterly razed by his superior. She parted her lips to continue, but finding herself a little caught now that his attention was on her.

The smile was faint on her lips as amusement suddenly sifted through her.

“I see you took my words to heart.”

Green eyes could only blink back at her for a moment, before the wry smile made its way to his lips, and the faint huff of a laugh left him. He reached up with his free hand, rubbing gently at the back of his neck.

“I... suppose I did,” he admitted with amusement. Hesitation lingered on his tongue as he realised he  _ wasn't  _ about to be torn to shreds, and he lowered his gaze briefly. “I want to apologise for not... telling you sooner. Either of you, really. We just...”

Qrow cleared his throat softly. “It... never interfered with work, so it was never really relevant.”

“Well, when you put it that way...” the operative murmured.

Winter could only offer the two of them a curt sigh as James chuckled softly at the two of them.

“Then for goodness sake, in future, don't dance around your words. Simply telling us is a far better option than attempting to side-step and bury the issue,” she told them brusquely. She turned her gaze sharply to Qrow. “And as for you.”

The woman stepped forward, heels clicking on polished floors as she got into his personal space. She shoved something against his stomach, and he gave a faint cough at the sudden move, whipping both hands up to catch what she'd given him. Red eyes blinked down at it in confusion, before he realisation struck, and darted his gaze back up to her.

“Please, stop attempting to destroy Atlas Military property, for once in your life,” she told him.

He turned over his now repaired scroll in his hands, and he couldn't help the faint smile that crossed his lips. Not... something he expected at all, lest of all from her, and he flicked it on, letting it boot up again. It only took a matter of seconds, and the first of the missed messages and calls began to filter through.

“You say this like I usually do.”

The last one was only a few minutes old, and he quickly typed out a reply to his niece before tucking the device away.

“You  _ are  _ known for it,” Winter bit back without a glimmer of hesitation, letting the wry smile settle upon her.

Qrow snorted at her, rolling his eyes at the simple fact.

“Then from now on, I'll be on my  _ best behaviour, _ deal?”

“And that's never stopped you in the past.” Soft and sharp, just like the rest of her, but there was a certain level of acidity that had been strangely absent in her words. The woman drew back from the pair, glancing between them. “However.”

She let the word sit in the air for a moment as her gaze lingered on the man at Qrow's side. With a warming of her smile, she turned her attention back to the huntsman.

“I think I trust you enough not to destroy this one,” she told him simply, and it only took a handful of heartbeats for the brush of colour to make itself known at the operative's collar. The huntsman didn't know whether to blink back at her some more or laugh at the woman, and his brain finally settled on a short snicker of amusement.

And perhaps his own tinge of colour upon his cheeks to go with it.

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm finished here. Captain, Qrow. I'm relieved to see you're feeling better.”

Winter gave them both a crisp salute, Clover returning it as the huntsman could only smile back at her. She seemed... softer somehow. A little less prickly to him, even if she  _ had  _ just tried to send him straight back to the infirmary with that strike. They all watched her go, and James could only shake his head at her.

“What'd I say,” Qrow's voice intoned to him, bringing his gaze back to the huntsman. “I told you she was starting to like me.”

James could only laugh softly at him. Seeing his friend acting so jovial about things, seeing him react with such a casual air, and simply accepting things as they were, it was... heartening to see after all these years. And if he'd found it in a way neither of them could see coming, well... he wasn't about to stop them.

“Only you, Qrow,” he laughed softly at his own words. “Still, apologies for the late visit, but I'm glad to see you're feeling better after yesterday. I think you gave everyone a bit of a scare.”

The huntsman gave an almost nonchalant shrug at the light accusation, and Clover could only smirk at him.

“He  _ is  _ good at that, sir,” he intoned simply. Qrow could only stare back at him in mock offence, earning the gentle round of laughter from the operative.

“Ouch, here I thought you were on  _ my  _ side...”

“Shows what you know.” A shoulder nudged his gently.

“Enough to know I'm being  _ betrayed.” _

Brothers, but how could James have been so blind to them when they were already like this. The General could only sigh heavily at the pair, strongly resisting the urge to roll his eyes and he glanced between the two.

“If you're both quite finished,” he began, bringing them up short. Still, he couldn't begrudge them of snatching what fleeting chance at happiness they could get in this world, and the sigh slipped from him. “I'll take my leave. Clover, I'll see you in the briefing room later. Qrow-”

Those red eyes were firmly on his, and it was only when a dark brow raised in questioning that James allowed the warm smile to spread across him entirely.

“Don't... go corrupting my finest officer too much,” he told him wryly.

Qrow could only grin back at him, flicking him a casual salute.

“No promises, James.”

The man could only laugh at his simple response, and with a more than fond glance at the two of them, bid them farewell. It was only as footsteps echoed to a silence down the corridor that Qrow heard the heavy sigh at his side.

He glanced over to see Clover pressing his hand to his chest, shoulders slackening with the action, despite the faint smile that played on his lips.

Qrow knew the heavy sense of relief when he saw it, and it didn't stop him from nudging a shoulder as he threaded fingers together. The operative stared back at him, and couldn't stop the first spill of amusement from across his lips. Qrow soon joined him, and as he rubbed at the back of his neck, their shared laughter became bright and warm, giddy relief flooding from them both.

Clover could only draw the huntsman into his arms, letting their foreheads press together as mirth danced between them.

“That was  _ terrifying _ _,”_ the operative laughed. Qrow held him tightly, swearing he could feel the way his heart beat behind his sternum.

“Just a little,” he agreed, letting a hand drift to the man's ascot. “But neither of us died, so... small miracles?”

The operative conceded the point with a brief raise of his brows. “I mean, I  _ think _ I still have my job,” he added with a laugh, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of a smiling mouth. Qrow let his hand settle at the back of the man's neck, teasing short brunet strands as he grinned back at him.

“If they fired you over something like that, I'd spend the rest of my days swooping them until they took it back.”

And Clover could only laugh at him, heady mirth spilling between them. For the two of them, it seemed the biggest hurdle had suddenly been conquered, and the rush of relief it brought them was breathtaking. Clover hadn't realised how tightly wound his feelings were on the whole notion of telling them; not until it had been immediately under the spotlight with no warning.

And it...  _ had _ been a little shaky, and  _ more  _ than terrifying, but...

It was done.

The two of them finally knew, and all they could do was breathe a shaky sigh of relief.

Still...

Qrow stole the brief kiss from him as they stood together, sharing their warmth. He knew what he heard as he stood there, and it brought the faint quirk to his brow as he stared back at green eyes.

“So.”

The operative raised a brow at him, not following. “So..?”

_ “ So _ _..._ you and Winter were talking about us, huh?”

_ That _ took the wind out of his sails once more, and Clover snorted softly at the phrasing.

“Not... exactly. But...” the words stilled on his tongue as his mind scraped together what he could of their conversation. It still boggled him at how close either of them had been to simply saying the wrong thing and overstepping their bounds, and in hindsight, he was almost ashamed he didn't.

After everything he learned of Winter from that one flight together, he knew now, beyond a doubt, that she deserved to know. That she deserved so much more than what was given to her in this life.

“I think, somehow... in some strange way... I got her blessing before either of us even knew about it.”

The words, soft and gentle, were  _ not  _ what Qrow had been expecting in the slightest, and brows rose at them, stilling him entirely.

_ “ Oh. ” _

It was all that came to mind, and he couldn't stop the softness from returning to his smile. It curled into his chest with its warmth, and for some strange, almost slightly silly reason to his mind, he found the notion... pleasant to hear. If not for himself, then certainly for Clover.

He knew that chasing their acceptance was important for the operative, for more than his position within the Military. It came down to acceptance of where he stood in life, where he drew his line in the sand, on what side of the field his allegiances lay.

Qrow knew, however faint and scant it may have been, that Winter's trust in himself had been a mere flicker of a candle flame, but with this little revelation, well...

He saw how her gaze had softened upon the two of them.

He could tell what it meant to Clover.

Fingers slipped free from brunet strands, gently gracing the man's cheek as he smiled his warmth at him.

“Lucky us, huh?”

Clover kissed him before his laughter could overtake them both.


	30. Saving Grace and Storms' Approach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a little bit of time to come out, thanks to a heaping helping of life getting in the way! But we're back, and raring to go, with a heaping helping of plot to start us off! Hopefully from now on, I'll be able to get something out a little more regularly, but who knows! I sure don't lmao.
> 
> For now though, enjoy some family being family as we board this rollercoaster once more ♥

Time trickled on within the twin cities. What had begun as a simple march towards the election was proving to be anything but. Tensions grew higher every day, and the teams were  _very quickly_ learning that conflict resolution and politics was a downright messy business.

Qrow knew all too well what it was like, and more than once in the following days, he'd pinched fingers to the bridge of his nose, wanting to pitch his gods-forsaken scroll across the room at yet  _another_ news report telling him what he didn't want to hear.

Telling him how Mantle was being left in the dust of Atlas, ever-gleaming and proud in the sky.

Telling him that people were sick of being abused and pushed around, used as little more than pawns in this game of politics.

Telling him about the tenuous back and forth about the demands upon Jacques Schnee and his authoritarian Dust company. That people deserved better, safer work conditions down in the mines, calling for the man to take some damn responsibility for once.

Telling him of the he-said, she-said game of people who wanted their five seconds of fame, winding whatever story they could to the news.

He was sick of being caught in the middle of it all; the very _reason_ he tried to stay out of other people's business in the first place, and it was starting to grate on him ceaselessly. He harboured no doubts that Clover felt the same way, and more than once, he'd found the man biting back the sigh on his tongue as he wrapped up his work for the night, fingers pinched to the bridge of his nose. Green eyes were simply tired as they nearly glazed over at the same thing, and it took Qrow gently pushing his scroll to the side and placing hands upon warm shoulders riddled with tension to sometimes get the message across.

Life had a funny way of reminding them all where they were supposed to stand in the world.

And also where they were continuously caught.

Qrow found himself repeatedly torn, as both wants and needs kept overlapping and fighting in his mind. It had been a running tally in his head for days now, and he still found himself unable to reach a singular conclusion to his own internal dilemma.

More than once, he'd reached up to run a hand across the back of his neck, gaze falling to the mountains so far away, and looking for all the world like he was utterly lost. It was always when he found himself running in circles that those arms would slip about him, holding him so tight and trying to smother his worries away that he knew he was coming closer to his choice.

Politics were a messy game, but gods above and below if sorting out his place in the world wasn't a close second.

It was during those days he'd been hounded and harassed by Ruby, and with a gentle laugh and a final tug of his arm that he agreed to visit Penny with her. His stomach had almost turned at the thought. At facing her again after he knew what had happened, but he bit down the worry that sat at the back of his throat, knowing that the only way forward was straight through.

It was a downright unpleasant direction, and he never liked it, but then again, nothing good ever was, his mind reasoned.

The girl's expression had all but lit up as the two of them entered the pharmacy, and before Qrow even had a chance to get a word out, he'd been nearly tackled in a violent hug.

He was glad that years of practice with his family had strengthened him against such things, and he gave a breathless laugh, extracting an arm to brush her hair gently, smiling down at her.

“I am so excited to see you again!” the girl gushed at him as she drew back. He couldn't help the almost shy canter of his laugh as he brought his hand to the back of his neck, not really knowing what to say or even where to start. Hesitation and guilt had snatched at him, and he swallowed through a suddenly tight throat.

At the sight of the girl, all that seemed to flood his mind were the snatch of memories that had hounded him for days. The fight on the tundra. The sight of her falling to the snow. Sitting all but lifeless alongside him in their shelter.

The wracking guilt that strung through him like piano wire, taut, and finely in tune.

Ruby had noticed his stillness, and she bit off the urge to let the murmur of sound slip from her, opting instead for a sharp jab of her elbow to his side. He startled lightly as he came back up for air, glaring ineffectively at her. Still, he knew what she mean, and he graciously took her not-so-subtle hint.

“Penny, I just... wanted to say I'm... I'm sorry about what happened,” he told her gently. “About...” His words faded to nothing, and he found they'd all but dried up on his tongue as he stood there. She continued to smile brightly back at him and Qrow could only let his breath out in a lengthy sigh, not even knowing where to begin.

“Apology not accepted!”

_That_ threw him for a loop and he blinked back at her. “Uh... alright.”

“You did nothing that warrants an apology,” she continued, tilting her head a little. “And before you even get started on what you think may or may not have happened, let me tell you that as huntsmen and huntresses, we all know the risks. Little things like this will _always_ happen; I'm simply lucky enough to not need to worry about that sort of thing!”

Her bright words were punctuated by a short snuffle of laughter from Ruby, knowing this was  _exactly_ what she expected from her friend. Penny had to pause though, and light concern ran through her features as she leant towards the huntsman a little.

“Oh Qrow... did I say something to upset you?”

At her words, Ruby baulked, and she glanced up at her uncle who was blinking maybe a little too fast. He cleared his throat, offering her a simple smile, faint and barely there as he rubbed almost timidly at his eyes.

“Fine, just... I'm fine,” he told her with a soft huff of a laugh. “I'm just happy you're back to your old self. Gave me a real scare, you know.”

Ruby placed a hand to the small of his back, and alright, maybe she'd been absolutely right when she said they needed to go and visit the plucky android. Penny seemed to harbour no reservations about holding back in the face of such adversity either, and the huntsman found himself pulled into a fierce hug by her once more.

All he could do was hug her back, just as tightly, and know that maybe... for once it wasn't his fault after all.

For the entirety of their trip back to Atlas, all Ruby could do was smirk at him like the cat who found the cream, and his resolve lasted until they touched down, where he sighed heavily at that beaming silver gaze. The girl had nearly shrieked when he snatched her into a headlock, tickling her mercilessly as bright laughter bubbled from her.

It brought no small amount of relief to her to see him smiling and teasing her once more, even if their visit to Penny _had_ rattled his cage a little. She knew the size of the burden he always seemed to shoulder, and she knew there would be no thorough convincing him to stop.

But a gentle pause every so often to get his breath back, and a helping hand with his worries... well, that seemed to be a decent compromise for the two of them.

He wasn't good, and it wasn't over, but he was just... better.

It was all that mattered to her.

Yet it was her  _own_ concerns and worries that still seemed to gnaw at the back of her thoughts, and with every day they drew closer to the election, it began to weigh heavily on her mind. Time in Atlas had been both well-spent and wasted, and she knew there was no easy way of getting out of it in the end.

No, something had to be settled, and she knew only one person who could help with it.

She only hoped he remembered how.

***

Qrow pinched fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to rid himself of the last vestiges of sleep that had clung to him like a second skin through the entire day. Coffee and a long shower had done nothing for him that morning, and he could only blame it on a thoroughly relaxing sleep.

If Atlas was good for one thing, it was getting his sleeping schedule back into some semblance of normalcy.

It probably had  _something_ to do with the company he kept during those hours, and the warm smile snuck across his expression. It still surprised him that he'd found utter ease in stepping so smoothly into the man's life; it felt as if one minute he was being arrested by him, the next, finding space alongside him in his very home.

Like he'd always been a part of it.

The warmth settled in his chest at the thought as he walked through the Academy halls, tucking hands back into pockets and feeling the familiar press of rings into skin.

He found himself shaking his head lightly, knowing he was  _still_ chasing rings around  _himself_ with the topic in question, but... well, he'd know sooner or later. For now, he had a family meeting to get to, and he was surprised he didn't hear the commotion coming from them all as he approached the door of their shared room.

Without needing to knock, he slipped inside, and there was all manner of excited shouts in his direction. In a flurry, he found arms wrapping tight about him in greeting as he was pulled towards where they all sat, laughter and bright merriment spilling over as he joined in their little gathering. Food, as always with their family, was never an issue, and spread between the lot of them was a feast that would put a Schnee banquet to shame.

If the Schnee family would ever lower themselves to eat noddles, that is.

Qrow could only laugh as he found a certain bowl had been waiting for him at the table, and he gratefully accepted it as he sat forward, reaching for chopsticks and breathing in that wonderful aroma.

Just another thing in Atlas he was vastly fond of, he supposed.

There was a light elbowing of his ribs, and with a faceful of noodles, he blinked over at Yang. From the grin on her face, he hastily swallowed it down before he  _knew_ he was going to start choking with whatever she came out with.

“So tell me,” she asked him like the veritable cat with the cream. “How's _uncle Clover_ doing today?”

Qrow snorted softly, colour tinting his cheeks as he laughed gently at the words. Perhaps he should have been expecting it, and he knew the girl would want to tease him – _and_ her sister – mercilessly about it. He was just lucky he'd had a few days to adjust to the notion, and how it warmed him down to his core.

It really did have a nice ring to it.

He'd almost opened his mouth to reply when there came a soft whine from across the table; both uncle and niece turned to find Ruby burying her face in her hands, face and ears all but aflame in lingering embarrassment.

The huntsman could only grin at her. “Naw, don't be like that kiddo,” he told her, reaching across the table to prod her with his chopsticks, causing those silver eyes to appear between fingers. “If it makes you feel any better, he goes the same colour when I call him that, too.”

Ruby could only groan again and drop her face to the table with a soft plonk. Qrow laughed gently at her, and he exchanged chopsticks for ring adorned fingers, ruffling her hair in warm affection while she struggled through her rampant fluster.

The poor girl might still have been dying from embarrassment, but it still couldn't stop the way silver eyes glanced shyly up at him as she sat upright once more, offering him a faint smile, small and full of adoration.

She stood firmly by what she'd almost said, even if it wrought the telltale thud deep in her chest. Perhaps she hadn't meant to let it slip out the way it did, but...

She still wanted to say it properly, one day soon.

Laughter, as always, found its way into their family, and in no time at all, mortifying stories, playful banter, and all manner of jokes wrought the bright peals from each of them. More than once, Qrow had to wipe the tears from his eyes as his mirth overtook him and shook through his shoulders, almost rendering him breathless.

Their shared meals were always a time of enjoyment, and he found himself wishing they could have more time together like this. Being on the road together for so long was certainly good for one thing, he realised.

As the food dwindled, and stomachs were filled, he took utter delight in letting the contented sigh slip heavily from him. He nursed his cup of tea gently as he sat back, reclining on the end of a couch as the others settled about him in the same manner.

No, he wanted to hold onto memories like this as long as he could, and he found something in his chest tighten vaguely at the notion. Before he...

He brought his cup to his lips before the expression could snatch at him.

“Alright, so... now that we've all had a chance to eat, I think it's time we get down to business,” Ruby announced from the other side of a coffee table. The huntsman gestured lightly with his cup as he met her eyes.

“Not like you to be so serious after eating,” he taunted softly, earning him a gentle thwap from Yang. He smirked at the blonde, and took the high road of _not_ sticking his tongue out at her.

Ruby sat up a little straighter, taking in a short breath as she mulled over her words lightly. Today's meeting with the teams had been something on her mind for a while now, but it was only in the last few days that things had begun to stir in the forefront of her mind. It was something that was inevitable, she knew, and she was glad there was a chance to talk before things in the world about them grew too heated.

“I make it a point of pride to be absolutely serious in everything I do, thank you,” she remarked, prim and proper. Blake couldn't hide the soft snicker at her words if she tried.

“ _But_ ,” she steamrolled ahead, ignoring the bluntness of her teammate. “I think it's time we got together and actually talked about our next move. We've... been here for a while now, and while the break is nice, we also know that Salem won't be stopping anytime soon. Especially when all she's got is time.”

Her words, soft yet firm in the room, seemed to be enough to sap some of the mirth from them all. It was something that was always going to follow them, so long as they kept moving forward, really. It was why they came to Atlas in the first place. It was the elephant in the room they could no longer ignore. And it was with a heavy sigh that Jaune glanced up at her.

“Alright, what did you have in mind?”

Ruby met his gaze and gave a brief nod. Reaching to her hip, she withdrew the Lamp, letting it sit upright on the table before her, and all eyes drew to it in sombre understanding.

The Lamp.

The Relic.

The thing they were supposed to be chasing in this city all along.

The thing destined to make them leave it, Qrow's mind whispered, and he had to force himself not to squeeze the cup in his hand.

He bit back the curse on his lips and swallowed down a scalding mouthful. He couldn't point fingers at anyone in the room or fault their thinking. They'd... been stalling in Atlas to simply get their collective breaths back. To pause, just like Ruby said.

And then he'd gone and done the silliest thing possible; far from being angry at himself, though, all he wanted to do was smile wistfully into his cup.

In the face of something this large and pressing, his feelings were almost trivial.

Even if he wanted to fight  _that_ particular notion with everything in his heart.

“This... is why we came here in the first place,” she began simply, letting her hands rest neatly in her lap, silver eyes caught in the swirling blue of the Lamp. “At first, it was Professor Ozpin telling us to come here, and then it was Jinn making it super clear as to _why_ we need to gather the Relics together, but... I think it's time we asked a little more about what we can do here, in Atlas.”

Ren raised a brow. “You're... not thinking about asking another question, are you?”

The girl shook her head with a soft smile. “No, that'd be a bit of a waste. I was thinking that we could start with what he have here, and go from there, so...” She turned her attention to Oscar. “Do you think... you could remember anything in the Professor's memories that might help us?”

The boy blinked hazel eyes back at her for a moment, struck a little by the question before he ducked his gaze away, almost embarrassed. He seemed to search for his answer, the wheels turning fervently behind a knitted brow before the faint murmur of sound slipped from him.

“I've... been trying ever since he left, but... it's still like everything's gone dark,” he admitted softly, guilt trailing through his words. “Unless it's something that's been shared between us in the past, I... I can't access anything anymore.”

He brought his gaze briefly up to the room, feeling the burden of his shame settle on his shoulders.

“I'm sorry...”

“Don't be,” Weiss told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We're all in this together, as a team, and it's why we're here now.”

“Brain-storming is kind of our thing,” Blake added with a warm smile.

Ruby nodded at them. “Alright, well... That kind of brings us to the next step.” She turned her attention to the huntsman across from her. “Uncle Qrow.”

Red eyes blinked from where they'd been lost in the swirling blue haze of the Lamp, and he ducked his gaze up to her. Lost in the memory of the past again. Lost in the bitterness that still sat deep in his stomach at the sound of that man's name.

“You were a part of his circle,” Ruby began. Qrow wished he never was. “And I know you've already filled us in with a _lot_ of this stuff back at Haven. But... do you think you could tell us anything that might be of any use?”

He held her gaze for a moment, and all at once, he was back in the memory of staring at her across a campfire, searing pain burning his side as he poked at embers with a stick. Stories of fables and fairy tales and downright fantastical nonsense spilling from him. The sigh slipped from him as he sat forward, taking a short draught from his tea and pushing the memory aside.

Looking for the right ones instead.

“So what you're _really_ asking, is how do we _not_ go into this thing blind, correct?” he asked, elbows settling on his knees. A small series of nods around the room.

“Alright, so first and foremost. The Relic kept here in Atlas is the Staff of Creation. Any guesses as to what it's supposed to do?”

There was a silence that lingered in the room as the rather sudden question mulled through everyone's thoughts. Blake's brow pinched as she brought a hand to her mouth in wonder.

“If the Lamp of Knowledge can answer anything, it would make sense that the Staff has the same sort of capabilities,” she began softly, simply thinking aloud. At his pointed nod, encouraging to follow her thoughts, her eyes widened slightly. “It... can _make_ anything?”

He gave a soft laugh, reaching forward to place his cup on the coffee table. “Pretty much. Like the name suggests, it has the power of Creation, or, in proper terms, the power to Create anything,” he explained, letting his gaze wander to each of them as he spoke. “It can conjure up an overflowing fruit tree from nothing, or bring about a storm on a cloudless, sunny day; essentially whatever you can think to create, the Staff has the ability to, well...  _create_ it. The way Oz also described it to me is that it's kind of an unlimited power source, but, there's a bit of a catch.”

He held up a finger. “It can only be used for  _one_ thing at a time.”

All eyes in the room glanced at one another, not really following. Nora could only shake her head at him, a light furrow crossing her brow.

“But... it's just sitting in the Vault waiting to be found, just like Haven, right?”

Qrow gave a vague hand gesture at the words. “Not quite. At the moment, it's still in use, so even by the time we  _get_ to the point of accessing the Vault, we can't just take it.” A sudden thought struck him and he rolled his eyes. “Not that the Military would just  _let us_ take it anyway... It's a... bit different to the setup that Haven had.”

The way the Vault was so tightly guarded, it would take a small army just to get past  _their_ small army.

“In use?” Jaune piped up, sharing in everyone's confusion. The huntsman could only smile back at him, feeling that same trickle of pride when he'd first introduced them to the sight of Atlas, floating high in the sky in the velvet blue of night. Oh this was going to be wonderful.

“Where are we? Right now?”

Ruby reached up to rub the back of her neck lightly. “Atlas... Academy?”

“And where is Atlas?”

“Well, above Mantle.”

Qrow stared evenly back at her, waiting for the penny to drop, for the thread to be connected, and it was when Weiss gave a soft gasp that he glanced over at the girl.

There it was, he thought with amusement in his eyes.

“Wait...” her eyes were wide as she rapidly came to her conclusion, the gears turning fiercely behind blue eyes. Of anyone else in the room, he certainly wasn't surprised that the girl from Atlas had the first clue about what was _really_ going on.

He smiled back at her in pure knowing, and it took her a handful of time to gather her words together again, and blue eyes darted away for a moment, trying to wrap her mind about it.

“Are you... The official story says that Atlas is kept aloft by the continuous use of Gravity Dust!” she exclaimed in wonder. “Are you saying... Wait, it's the _Staff?_ ”

It was in such simple times and statements that he almost missed teaching, and the joy of seeing his students come to their own conclusions, and it brought the smile broadly to his lips. The huntsman took great delight in languidly standing up and reaching for his cup, finishing it off in one fell swoop, and gesturing lightly with it.

“Atlas – that is, the whole city beneath our feet – is held up in the sky by the Staff,” he told them simply with a short laugh. “Crazy world, huh?”

There was palpable shock and a thick layer of silence that lingered in the room as everyone absorbed the news. For as much of an initial surprise as knowing there was _still magic_ in the world, it coursed through them deeply to realise just _how_ _strong_ that magic was. The huntsman's transformation ability was one thing, Cinder and all her Maiden powers another; even seeing the Lamp in action, and the swathe of a world it could create for them was simply astounding.

But to see an entire world held suspended in the clouds by a mere tool...

Qrow almost snorted to himself as he wandered back to the small kitchen to pour himself some more tea. He'd been living with magic nearly his whole life, and even the lustre of what the Relics were capable of never failed to amaze him.

It did still leave the rest of the questions he  _knew_ were coming, however. He lightly swirled the cup in his hand, making his way back to the couch and sitting heavily into it once more.

“... and we can't remove it from the Vault until the city's back on the ground,” Oscar finally finished the next part of the equation. The furrow was deep across his brow as he thought through the rest of the problem. “So... how do we go about that?”

Qrow openly shrugged. “Not a damn clue. James has got the controls for it buried somewhere deep beneath our feet, and I've never been privy to it.” He finished his words with a soft laugh, taking a short sip of his tea.

He also didn't want to bring light to the fact that Oz was the only other person in the room who knew anything about it. Oscar's regret at being unable to provide any sort of assistance from the secretive bastard was palpable, and to openly point out the idea would be to rub salt in an already open wound.

He couldn't do it to him. Wouldn't.

Still, his words were enough to deflate the teams a little, seemingly hitting another brick wall in their questions.

“Well, what about the Winter Maiden? She's here, right?” Nora asked. Qrow felt the sigh settle on his tongue and he reached up to sweep fingers through dark hair. What about her indeed...

“Hard to say...” he breathed, mulling over the facts in his mind. “Fria's in a stable condition, but she's frail. And whilst I'm sure James has got some sort of contingency plan in mind, there's no telling when she might pass on. Could be a matter of days, or she could kick around for another few years.”

He took in their silence as the faint murmur of sound touched his lips. “Not to mention I'm not even sure she's in the right kind of condition to even  _open_ the Vault. So she's... a wild card here.”

It was a sobering thought that settled onto them all as they mulled over the facts. A Vault that remained locked. A Relic that remained in use. A Maiden that remained suspended in time. Nothing about the situation seemed to be of any use to them for their mission. Until they were able to access the Vault and continue their journey with the Staff, they seemed to almost be stuck in limbo.

Destined to get caught up in the turmoil about them, rather than the turmoil they carried at their side.

For what started as a hopeful round of planning their next move, it suddenly felt like it had dwindled into nothing more than a series of dead ends. Considering time seemed to be of the essence, it was hard to know where to go from their current position.

But... it all seemed to settle on Fria, as Qrow had told them, and  _that_ was a complete unknown to them.

Ruby glanced up, finding Jaune's eyes on her, and for a moment, they both wore the same expression. Deep thought touched them both, having run through all the options and seeing the broader strokes upon the canvas. Having almost come to the same conclusion, and at once, lowered their eyes to the floor.

They also knew what their shared conclusion would mean to the huntsman.

“Then I guess...” Ruby began, sounding more than a little lost as she scraped her words together. “I guess our next move is to speak to General Ironwood. Gather what information we can on how to keep everyone safe in order to take the Staff with us.”

“Do we...”

The voice was small, tentative, and Oscar almost regretted voicing his thoughts for a moment. Hands were clasped in his lap, and he squeezed fingers together lightly as he dropped hazel eyes to them.

“Are we still choosing to... not tell General Ironwood about... about everything?”

Despite all their questions and brain-storming, the very thought that had lead them all into this mess in the first place hung over them like a quiet shadow.

The huntsman already knew the answer, and it sat heavily in his stomach like a stone. He brought his cup to his lips and closed his eyes, not trusting his expression to betray him. Not trusting himself not to say anything that would shoot down their lofty ideals.

He knew more than enough about keeping secrets to know exactly what kind of loaded dice they were playing with. He just didn't want to see any of them burned when the time came to draw back the curtain.

“We can't,” Jaune answered simply. He met Oscar's gaze, offering him a meagre smile before glancing up at Ruby. He could tell the boy's expression meant to brighten his words, yet to Qrow's eyes, that smile only looked like an apology. “Until we know what his intentions are... especially concerning the people of Mantle, we just... have to wait and see.” The blond turned his attention to the huntsman. “I'm guessing the General knows about as much as you when it comes to the Relics, the Vault... all of that?”

Qrow nodded, swirling his cup lightly in his fingers. “Pretty much. Unless he's done his own research into the matter, that is. But considering his main source of information was either Oz or myself, I highly doubt there's any further documentation on the topic that's just floating around anywhere.” And with that, he brought the cup to his mouth again, pausing over it without taking a sip.

James might be a tired, worried man, but he knew how to hold onto an advantage, and as it stood, the Staff and Fria were his biggest aces in the hole.

Qrow  _knew_ he wouldn't give them up without a  _hell_ of a lot of convincing.

With the faintest furrow to his brow, he drew his cup away from his lips, still lingering on the aroma as he let his thoughts settle. Leaving or staying. That seemed to be what it all came down to. Just like it always had. In this case, it was now just a matter of time and a single man's cooperation.

He... wasn't liking their chances on either.

He wasn't liking having to make the choice at  _all._

He swallowed through a suddenly tight throat, knowing he was on a vicious timer, no matter where he cast his lot.

And knowing his family, there was utterly no way to change their minds once a decision had been made. A decision it seemed they were all starting to see play out before them, unfolding delicately and showing them exactly where-

“You don't think asking Ironwood is the right plan.”

Yang's voice stirred from next to him, and he blinked over at her as he came back up for air, finding those eyes softly analysing him.

“Honestly? I think it's about our _only_ choice right now,” he replied without hesitation. “It's certainly the only thing we can do without sitting around on our thumbs waiting for this whole election fiasco to blow over.”

Nora heaved a sigh from across the room, reaching up to rub at her hair. “Yeah, and  _that's_ just a whole  _other_ mess of fun right there...” she ground out. Qrow resisted the urge to agree with her in a heartbeat.

Still, for what started as a simple discussion for what direction to take, they had a better idea of where they were, and what they needed to do. Rather than simply let themselves get caught up in politics and power plays, they did what they always did; pressed on and pushed through in order to reach the best outcome.

They were open and honest with each other, and it was enough to bring them closer together as a family. Qrow was simply the odd one out, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'd been the biggest liar of them all.

For someone who had answered all their questions with blunt honesty, steered them towards the right track at all times, guided them through situations that an otherwise untrained hand might not have known...

He was so dishonest with  _himself_ it almost hurt.

“Alright, so...” Ruby breathed with finality. “Tomorrow, we speak with General Ironwood.”

He let the feeling sigh across his tongue like so much bile, heavy and burning as the air left him.

He swallowed down what was left of his tea.

And came to the hardest decision of his life.


	31. Hold Me Down and Help Me Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains **adult content!** If that's not your cup of tea, feel free to wait for the following update, as this particular chapter will only be briefly mentioned there.
> 
> Since it all begun  
> To it's reckoning  
> There the reason comes on the common tongue of your loving me
> 
> ~ Moment's Silence, Hozier

The storm had blown up out of nowhere during the course of the day. In one fell swoop, snow had been dumped back upon the icy earth in thick drifts, undoing all the hard work from barely a week prior.

Wind whipped through the twin cities, and the chill that tore through them was vicious enough to cut deep into bone. Stepping outside with anything less than four layers was a fool's game, and Qrow had started shivering as soon as he did. He'd drawn his arms further about himself, and had  _actually_ conceded defeat and rolled down his sleeves. What was even the point in sending people out on a patrol like this when the weather was terrible? Gods, it wasn't as if there would be anyone  _else_ dumb enough to attack the city during all this, Grimm or otherwise.

Clover had laughed at him over his scroll, some half a city away, but he could still see the merit in his words. The huntsman  _also_ pointed out that it still didn't stop the man from wandering around with bare arms; Qrow felt his teeth chattering just from  _looking_ at him half the time in the damn snow. The operative could only inform him that he was sorely mistaken, and that he actually  _had_ sleeves on for the night, thank you.

Whilst he knew the huntsman appreciated the sight of him braving the elements at the best of times, he also possessed better common sense than most. He had nothing personal against sleeves in the slightest; simply that he'd preferred the freedom of movement without them, and could withstand the cold better than others.

Qrow had snorted at him, calling him as bad as a certain other blond dweeb in his life. It still didn't stop him from appreciating the warmth of that voice in his ear as they both walked, wanting nothing more than to get the night over and done with and back home where it was far more comfortable.

Even if his aura had long since healed the injury on his forehead, the cold still bit at his skin, and he couldn't help but rub at it occasionally; attempting to return warmth to the site.

It was the same as with the words from earlier that day that wanted to sneak into the forefront of his mind again, and they bit and nipped at his heels, demanding attention.

He wanted little else than for it to go away, and yet he knew it was something that would hound him until he'd announced his choice.

Red eyes fell to the ground before him, and feet had drawn to a standstill. It was a choice that, no matter what he decided, would hurt those around him, and he  _despised_ himself for it.

With a low huff of a breath that slipped from him, and a gentle rub to cold arms, he made his way forward again, tucking the thoughts safely back into their box for the moment. Knowing there would be time enough to address them.

It still felt like a veritable lifetime before they'd completed their rounds, and were able to slip away for the rest of the night. The lights were already on when Qrow arrived, and from the clods of snow that still sat on familiar boots, the operative had only just beaten him home. The violent shiver ran down his spine as the temperature of the apartment started warming through his core once more, and he shook his head; flecks of snow dislodging from his hair and flicking to the ground.

He  _despised_ Atlas for one singular reason, and he almost felt his teeth chattering as he rubbed hands up and down his arms in an attempt to  _feel_ something once again.

The huntsman closed the door behind him, blowing out a warm breath across cold lips and kicking off his snow covered shoes. Gods above, but his fingers and  _teeth_ ached with how cold they were, and he cupped hands before his mouth, gently warming them with his breath, when a hand fell to his shoulder. He glanced behind him to spy the frowning operative.

“You are shivering,” he was told bluntly, and red eyes almost rolled at the greeting. “Go get in the shower.”

“Yeah, well you're one to talk,” Qrow's retort came easily as he turned, and he scooped that hand into both of his. The operative's fingers were stone cold, even compared to his, and he brought them to his mouth to breathe gently on them, warming them lightly. “Y'know, for a guy that doesn't believe in sleeves-”

“I do too-”

“-I'm _really_ not surprised you lowered your standards for tonight. And you do not,” Qrow added pointedly, ignoring the way he was still shivering. The brunet could only shake his head at him, wry smile covering his expression as he lowered his eyes to his hand, gently warmed between others. He could just imagine the swathe of retorts the huntsman had prepared about him surviving in Vacuo or Vale or Menagerie, and, true, he'd probably agree with them all.

He was simply far better suited to colder climates, much to the huntsman's eternal disgust.

It almost made him laugh, and he met those red eyes once more, smile bright across his expression.

“Go and get warmed up, I'll survive for now, really,” he told him gently, giving one of those hands a faint squeeze. Those red eyes lingered on his for a snatch of time before the vague note of cheek ran through the huntsman's expression, and he ducked his gaze away.

There was a hesitant pause as he gathered his words, the same way the faint brush of colour gathered at his upturned collar, and he sighed in exasperation as he spoke.

“You know... I hear Atlas is all about conservation and renewable resources these days.”

It was Clover's turn to pause, as it most certainly was  _not_ high on Atlas' list of priorities.

Hands turned within his, one threading easily with fingers as the other one drew in to delicately trace the edge of a lapel, red eyes following their every move and not daring to look up from them. He didn't think he could chance it with the way his pulse was suddenly thudding in his ears. He could feel the heat radiating from the man under his fingers, and it almost made him swallow.

Qrow let fingertips skirt the edge of a cold pin.

“Wanna... help save some water with me?”

The silence surrounding them was palpable, save for the continual soft scratch of snowfall upon the windows, and even  _that_ sounded like thunder to the huntsman. Especially combined with the downright embarrassed thudding that had increased a hundred-fold in his head.

He realised with sudden crushing clarity that maybe perhaps it was a little too forward, or maybe just... a little too much, or something else entirely. The bold suggestion, no matter how he framed it, was simply that – utterly forward, but at least the warmth of embarrassment was doing wonders to stop him from shivering.

Gods, the brunet hadn't even  _moved_ since the words slipped out. Surely it wasn't  _that_ bad of a line; hell, he'd said  _worse_ in his time, and by all standards it was actually pretty-

Fingers tucked under his chin, bringing a thunderous halt to his thoughts, and it was only as they gently brought his head up, that he dared to meet those eyes. And the man was... alright, well despite the matching brush of colour on those cheeks, he was smiling.

That was...

It was a good start.

“That was _entirely_ terrible,” he began simply. Colour blazed heavily across Qrow's cheeks as his worries were shattered in a heartbeat, and the embarrassed scowl settled onto his features.

“Hey, that was _pretty_ damn smooth-”

“And I'm _right_ ,” Clover finished. That easily amused smile settled into something warm and deep. Before he did the absolutely unthinkable. “But... call me a conservationist.”

Before he  _ winked  _ at him.

Before Qrow's mind ground to a complete and utter halt.

Before the flush of heat overtook him entirely and the heavy sigh flooded from him.

His heartbeat still echoed loudly in his ears, but now it had another layer to sift through alongside his initial thoughts. Once his brain decided to remember how to work, that was. He swallowed lightly, hands finally lowering as he came back to the world around him; having needed the brief pause to see him through the reboot procedure, and he met those eyes once more, shivering from a little more than just the cold.

He held up an accusing finger at the man.

“That was _entirely_ unfair,” he told him simply, utterly deadpanned, and Clover could only laugh softly at him as the huntsman pulled on his hand gently, leading him through the apartment.

Fingers helped tug clothing from skin, dumping it unceremoniously upon the floor, and soon the gentle scratch of snowfall against windows was drowned out by the rush of water; dousing the room in a wash of steam and already pulling relieving warmth through bitterly cold muscle.

The shift in temperature was already bliss on his skin and he readily stepped under the near scalding spray, the shiver tracing along his body for an entirely different reason, and the low groan of satisfaction slipping from him as the hot water hit him.

Hands slipped easily through sodden hair, gently cleaning and scrubbing and washing the day away, soon joined by another pair as the operative stepped in with him. Fingertips pressed light against skin, drawing wondrous relief where they cleansed, and further mapping every scratch and scar and line and freckle upon skin. After such a bitterly cold evening, it was utterly decadent to simply soak up the blessed warmth from water and touch as hands slipped across shoulders and arms, neck and back, stomach and chest.

It still felt like a downright bold question in his mind, but as he stood under the deluge of hot water, those hands gently scrubbing along his spine and making their way easily to the nape of his neck, Qrow knew it was something they both needed.

Something perhaps they'd both wanted, and he was glad for the warmth about him to help hide the brush of colour to his skin. The thought nearly drew the shiver from him as fingertips pressed deep and smooth into muscles that ached from the cold.

“Glad you've got warm hands again...” the murmur slipped from the huntsman, directed across his shoulder and drawing the gentle laugh from the man behind him. Hands drew a final trail down from dark hair, settling about a waist and drawing him flush against his body. The operative fit in perfectly close to his form as fingertips brushed idly across a dark scar; he was still surprised how the marred line always seemed to react to differing temperatures, and he pressed his lips to the nape of the huntsman's neck.

“Glad you've got a warm _everything_ once more...” Clover breathed in response. “You almost worried me with how you were shivering like that.”

Qrow gave a gentle murmur of sound, closing his eyes to the feeling of lips delicately painting words on his skin. “Mm... never really agreed with the cold. I'm built for fall, and that's about it.”

“Well, you _did_ grow up around Vale.” The gentle laugh spilled across the huntsman's senses, and the lengthy sigh brushed from his lungs.

“Went where the tribe took us...” he murmured without much thought. Red eyes opened, staring absently ahead. “Probably would've froze to death anywhere up north in Anima, but hey, here I am in Solitas,” he added with a huff of irony.

He felt the smile against his skin, and warmth blossomed where those lips stayed. He swallowed at the sensation and forced himself not to shiver despite the heat that enveloped him.

The deeper breath of a chuckle sounded across his ears like the clearest bell.

“And I'm glad you are...” Clover breathed low against flushed skin, fingertips giving a gentle squeeze where they lay.

The words brushed across Qrow's senses like the flicker of a flame, and red eyes slipped shut at the way that deeper tone smoothed through him; warmth clenching gently in the pit of his belly. That bold part of his mind slithered about the words, encircling them and the way the man's tone spoke straight to the heady sensation that had flushed through him.

Those words were playing a dangerous game with him.

He drew hands up to settle atop the man's, and he turned his head a little, feeling the gentle nuzzle travel to his temple.

“Least being here gets the worst part of this journey out of the way first...” he teased, and Clover had to turn away lest he laugh into the huntsman's ear, bright and full of adoration. He couldn't help himself from smiling as the man laughed, feeling it shake through his shoulders.

The operative pressed smiling lips to the back of an ear. “Do you really dislike Atlas that much?”

It was a simple question, nothing malicious behind it, and Qrow hummed in mock thought. The huntsman drew a hand away from the one atop a scar, and delicately settled fingertips along the man's cheek.

“There's one thing I like about the place...” he murmured.

Clover closed his eyes at the touch, seeking its warmth as hands drew further about a stomach, thumb still idly tracing the end of a scar.

“Mm... and what would that be?”

Qrow smirked to himself, something pure cheek.

“Well... the food's pretty good.” Clover could only have known it was coming, and he brushed smiling lips along the edge of the huntsman's ear, resisting the urge to sigh heavily. “Found a good noodle place that makes for a great first date, too.”

“... oh, was that a first date?” the man breathed without hesitation. He could give as good as he got, after all. “Don't seem to remember it ending with a goodnight kiss...”

A soft snort met his ears, as did the softly mumbled words that followed. “Might still be a little bitter about that...”

Clover hummed against his skin, the sound rolling through Qrow's skin like a gentle wave, and  _ still _ the man hadn't stopped that torturously slow drag of lips against his ear.

“Mm... maybe I _was_ a little slow...” came the words against his senses, barely a breath of a whisper that sounded like the low roll of thunder to the huntsman.

Clover smirked faintly to himself as lips skirted down to the column of a neck, drawing skin against his mouth in a lazy drag. The gentle pressure made the fingers at his cheek curl ever so slightly, and his smile hitched.

“Can I make it up to you..?”

The murmur was deep against already flushed skin, and as those lips returned to brush along the shell of an ear, Qrow could do nothing but feel the way they sent the sensation crawling down his spine. He swallowed against it, and the way the tone of that voice had slithered across his senses once again.

It was dangerous, and he found fingertips skirting along the edge of broken glass.

Once more, Qrow found himself in the hands of the man who knew so expertly how to derail his track of thought, and he let his breath out delicately, knowing he was drastically losing the battle with himself.

“You can start by kissing me,” he murmured in a low tumble, turning to smile wryly across his shoulder. Green eyes met his for a moment, and he could do nothing but accept.

Qrow tilted his head a little, helping those lips meet his in a brush so gentle, eyes closing at the soft contact. There was no hesitation in their touch; both of them simply tasting the warmth that made the water flowing about them feel almost tepid in comparison. Fingers curled gently at Clover's cheek, and he sighed into the kiss, his own fingers seeking to press further into skin.

It lingered, unhurried between them, as they stilled against one another, letting the simple contact be enough for them in that moment.

But more than that, to Qrow, it felt like a delicate balance in his mind had finally tipped. That fingertips had collected about the broken shards of glass at his feet, and he was readying himself to sever the last of the ties that held his doubts.

He was ready to trust someone in a way that had long been absent in his life.

He wanted to share with Clover in a way that should have almost been terrifying to him.

He wanted to give him so much more, and fingers tightened about the fractured glass he held.

Qrow was vaguely aware of the absence of warmth against his lips, and he opened red eyes to find the man staring back at him, having drawn back and allowing the huntsman to find his way back from his wandering thoughts. The smile that graced those lips was something rich and full, just for him, and it drew the breath from him.

“Thought you wanted to save water, not stay in here longer...”

There was a gentle nuzzle to his cheek, and Qrow couldn't even find the presence of mind to respond to the simple banter, so lost in the way those eyes shone, just for him. The realisation came to him with all the force of a tidal wave that smothered, and he had to remind himself not to fall too deeply into the way fingers pressed into skin, holding him firm and all at once so tenderly, just for him.

“... I want you...”

The breath of realisation slipped from him and it sounded like the crack of thunder overhead.

Despite the cascade of water and steam about them, Qrow swallowed against an impossibly dry throat, and he sucked in a breath across his tongue. Fingers had stilled their simple caress of his scar, and green eyes saw nothing else but the huntsman.

Red eyes flicked between the man's, cantering briefly to those lips so full of warmth and promise as he wet his own briefly.

“This... I mean.” A quiet clarification of his words, almost lost to the sound of water about them and gods above and below, he could hear his heart echoing in his throat like a drum. “I want this...”

His own breath stilled in his chest for a moment, and he let it slip from him with gentle finality.

And all he could do was bring the razor edge of the glass to the last of his doubts.

“I want you.”

Once more, his words firm and without hesitation, and fingers curled at the man's cheek. Clover let his gaze settle upon those lips, wanting to see them speak those words once more, to know the shape of them, and he nuzzled him gently. Green eyes closed, wanting to commit the sight of lips speaking those words to his memory.

But the sound of his voice speaking them...

Of that, he wanted to hear once more.

“... you're sure?” he breathed.

Those red eyes waited until green met his once more, and fingers slipped away from the delicate hold upon a cheek, skirting down to thread atop the ones at his scar.

“Yeah...” A pause, and fingers tightened their hold. “I'm sure.”

Clover found no breath of hesitation in that voice, and it stole whatever had stilled in his chest. He also found it made little difference to him, as words were something that now seemed all but useless between them. His thumb traced a final line to that scar as the hand covering Clover's gave a guiding push, and fingertips scored their way light across an abdomen. Lips found the edge of the huntsman's ear, delicately kissing their way towards his jaw as red eyes fluttered shut from his view.

Qrow couldn't help but tilt his head further back against the curve of a shoulder, indulging in the shuddering feeling of anticipation, as lips dragged along skin and fingertips pulled his own hand towards darker curls.

The only beat of hesitation came as Clover paused above those lips, feeling the warmth spilling from them, before he met them gently. At the first brush of fingers against sensitive skin, there was a draw of breath so sudden and deep, it stole the very air from the man's lungs. Emboldened by the sigh that shuddered against him, Clover encircled fingers further about him, stroking him and greedily drinking in the way Qrow's breath cantered against his mouth, hot and already unsteady.

Fingers drew away from his hand and where they had guided him, returning shakily to the curve of a cheek, threading further back to clutch at short brunet strands. Something to anchor him as Clover's rhythmic strokes quickly brought him past the half hard state his mere thoughts had started.

It had been a veritable age since he'd last allowed himself the freedom to simply touch himself, and even longer still since he'd allowed someone else to join him in the act. But the feeling of calloused fingers stroking him, deep and ripping all thought from his mind and breath from his chest, was all he ever wanted to feel again.

It had been when he was a dumb teenager supposedly in love. It had been when a simple need had to be fulfilled.

But never had he wanted to share himself with someone so  _ desperately  _ as he did with Clover. 

It hammered behind his sternum and he felt himself tipping further towards the edge, hips canting almost of their own accord as he sought to feel everything he could. He wanted nothing else than for those fingers to keep working their way along his length as his breath shuddered from him. Wanted to feel the way Clover pressed against him in his own arousal, open-mouthed and swallowing the moans that spilled from him.

Red eyes slivered open and he gave a distracted pull to brunet hair, heat flushed across cheeks. He wanted-

“Turn-” The whisper of his own voice almost smothered by the press of that mouth, and he bit off his words as he was unable to contain the moan that lay upon his tongue. “Let me turn-”

Limbs felt shaky as he moved without waiting for a reply, and Clover was made to stop as fingers found his wrist. The huntsman turned within the man's arms, space scant between them as his body refused to break any sort of contact with the heat of his skin. With barely a push of his weight, Qrow pressed the man's back against the cool tiles, drawing the shiver from him at the drastic shift in temperature along skin.

His lips were claimed as the huntsman brought them together in his own hand, stroking them both, and it was Clover's turn to find thoughts stuttered and lost from him. He brought a hand to the curve of Qrow's jaw, fingertips threading into dark and sodden hair plastered to skin as he could do nothing but hold onto him for a moment, breaking apart in a needed gasp and breathing hard against his mouth.

“Qrow, gods...” The moan of his name spilling across lips in sinful reverence as Clover changed his tack once more, finding purchase in his thoughts. His other hand joined the huntsman's as they continued to stroke each other together, and he dragged the heat of his mouth along the edge of his jaw, grazing teeth along inflamed skin before sinking in to the softness of his neck.

There came a jerk of a stop to the hand stroking them both, and Qrow sucked in a breath so quickly it made him dizzy. Felt the way that sharpness upon skin sent the fire pooling straight into his belly. The fingers covering his own moved for the both of them once more, a soft desperation growing in their movements, and he drew his bottom lip between teeth as he let his head fall back; giving the man as much space as he wanted, as hips and hands fell into a steady rhythm against one another.

Trusting him entirely to do with him what he pleased.

The brunet was thoroughly intent on leaving the darker mark against pale skin, and Qrow's brow pinched tightly as his own lip drew tight between teeth; almost unable to stop the stilted whine that fell from him. He wanted nothing else.

He wanted Clover in every little way that every little thing he did sent his heart thudding in his chest. He wanted to feel everything the man could offer him, and drink in everything else.

He would wear whatever mark sat upon his skin, as proudly as the rings that sat upon fingers.

His free hand curled almost uselessly into brunet hair, wanting any sort of purchase as he rapidly found himself approaching the edge, chest all but aching as he gasped through the feeling.

Lips dragged up from his neck, stealing his own in a fiercely brief kiss and leaving them panting against one another, foreheads pressed together for a moment as green eyes took in everything of the beautiful sight before him.

Every little brush and touch and caress. Every stroke of those fingers and rivulet of water that trailed across skin threatened to topple him, and his chest began to hurt with the exertion that pulled through him. His brow pinched sharply as he felt the familiar crackle of sensation begin to drag through his spine and fingers trembled in short hair.

“Cloves, I-”

The words dragged from him before he sucked in a sharp breath, and the static began to hiss in his mind. Brunet hair was clenched tightly in a fist as Qrow's other hand shot up from between them, fingertips digging in hard to the man's bicep and scoring half-moon crescents into skin. Already closed eyes clenched hard as the silent wrench of sound was torn from an open mouth, and he arched against the man, feeling it ripple down to his toes as he was left tilting his head blindly towards the ceiling.

Clover had the presence of mind to drag his hand from the huntsman's jaw to wrap firmly about the small of his back, feeling the way that body tensed with white-hot release. The shuddering gasp tore across his senses as Qrow came hard between them, leaving him shaking in his grasp; fingers trembling in short brunet hair, as his chest dragged in what heaving breath it could.

The operative closed his eyes, fingers still steadily stroking the two of them, and wanting to etch everything into his memory. The sound of that voice cantering into a staccato of staggering gasps and almost torturous moans. The feel of fingers clutching him so tight it  _ hurt  _ and both of them trembling through the pleasure. The sight of him thoroughly dishevelled, completely undone, and trying so desperately to remember how to keep himself standing.

It was almost too much for Qrow; feeling fingers dragging almost agonisingly across sensitive skin as he wound back down from his high. He very nearly brought a shaking hand away from where he still tightly dug into skin, wanting to find a way to pull the electric touch of fingertips from him as the sensation continued to jolt through his spine.

The harsh breath of a moan found its way to the curve of his jaw, lips hot against slick skin as his senses started to return to him. Trembling fingers in brunet hair gave a vague pull, drawing that mouth back to his own and the breath was stolen from his lungs as Clover continued to stroke them both.

Qrow greedily swallowed the strained ache of a whisper that spilt across lips, open-mouthed against him, and red eyes watched through his own haze, foreheads pressed together.

He wanted Clover to fall as deeply as he had. He wanted to watch the man tumble across the edge as release struck him. He wanted to hear him breathless and broken open before them both.

He wanted him.

He wanted him so bad it  _ hurt _ .

The brunet felt the ache deep in his chest as his lungs began to burn with the very effort of breathing, brow pinched tightly as green eyes remained clenched shut. It almost startled him when he felt slick warmth at his ear, the huntsman having taken the edge of it into his mouth.

Teeth found skin, and the broken-off whimper of a curse tore from him. That shuddering breath stayed in his ear as Qrow slowly awoke from his dizzying height, and he was acutely aware of both hands now tangled in sodden brunet hair.

Lips found his own in a deep kiss that seemed far too languid for the desperate race of his heart, and they parted briefly, Clover all but panting against him.

“Qrow-”

He sucked in a sudden breath across teeth – the sound cutting off as he tensed in the huntsman's arms. Silence latching onto him, despite the shaky way he breathed heavily against that mouth. Something still so  _ gods damned _ instinctual to him thanks to a lifetime with the military, and he drew his bottom lip tightly between teeth, stifling the ache of a whimper that fell from him.

He dragged in a breath like he was dying, and those lips stole it from him again and again, one hand dragging from his hair to cup almost delicately about his jaw.

“... m'right here, Cloves...”

The sinful whisper brushed against kiss-bitten lips, and the man came completely undone.

The sharp staccato of his voice broke almost silently across his throat as he tilted his head back against tile, eyes clenched tight and brow pinched impossibly as ripples of pleasure struck him with the force of a summer storm. He was eternally grateful for the press of tiles at his back, and the huntsman's weight holding him against them, for in that long moment, he couldn't even remember his own  _ name _ .

Fingers clenched tight in his hair as he came hard between them, driving the spike of pleasure through him in a way he hadn't ever expected. His breath gasped out of him, chest heaving and feeling his legs nearly shudder.

Qrow closed his eyes, letting the last wash of static slip from him, drinking in all that the man had to offer him; wanting to never forget the sight of him so utterly tousled as his body began to slacken in the huntsman's hold.

The brunet's breathing was laboured as he let his head rest almost gently where it had fallen, feeling his heart hammering in his chest as the water continued to cascade over the two of them. Almost in a daze, he drew his own fingers up and away from achingly sensitive skin, dragging a line up Qrow's chest to curl at his neck in thorough exhaustion. Fingers that had once clenched tight about his hair now slipped free, and he almost groaned out at the loss of tension.

He felt boneless.

Completely spent in a way that had long been lost to him.

And gods above and below, if it didn't feel downright incredible.

He was vaguely aware of light pressure at his forehead, and green eyes slid open, focusing hazily on the huntsman and those red eyes that stared straight through him, utterly open that he was.

Clover felt the aching groan fall from him, and all he could do was lean forward, pressing back against the huntsman as he slid his hand further up to cup his jaw. Lips brushed delicately against one another in a tender mockery of the vicious kiss he'd stolen from him moments earlier, and all Clover could do was breathe him in as he closed his eyes once more.

Let everything that was Qrow envelop his senses and drag him under once more.

Through shared breath, the brunet felt the heat of those lips and could faintly taste the pulse that ran through his own. He didn't even realise how hard he'd bitten down in trying to stifle himself; a simple injury that would be healing by the morning, but he'd wear it with pride all the same.

They parted with a bare breath, and the brunet almost ached at the simple loss, even as Qrow nuzzled him. The gravelly chuckle slipped across his senses, and he opened his eyes to meet that hazy glint of amused red.

“... gotta say... you Atlas folk sure know a heck of a way to warm up...”

It was with a breathless roll of his own voice that Clover felt the languid mirth spill through him, and the smile dragged across his expression as he pressed a chaste kiss to amused lips. He wanted to drink in the laugh that brushed between them, and feel nothing but the hands that curled at his jaw, teasing sodden brunet strands.

“... that... was entirely terrible...”

Murmured and achingly exhausted against those lips, but flooded with affection.

Clover dragged his fingers further into dark hair, keeping the huntsman flush to him as water cascaded about them, dragging away the last stretches of fatigue that lingered; the last moments of stinging cold that barely nipped at memories. There was a lazy sort of haze that flooded his senses, and he relished in it.

He indulged in the sensation as much as he did those lips that poured against his, and it was only when the sigh fell against his mouth that he moved, drawing the hand that still lay about the huntsman's back further up warm muscle. He tracked fingertips idly along skin, like tracing the seams of a map he already knew so well, and he settled at the hollow of Qrow's throat.

It was something they'd both needed, and certainly something they'd both wanted.

Simply... the next step in this relationship of theirs, and he swallowed lightly.

As the last of the hot water was rinsed from thoroughly warm and relaxed bodies, Qrow couldn't help the heavy sigh that dragged from him. Red eyes closed briefly as the shower about them finally ceased, and he was still caught in the hazy bliss of steam and pliable muscles and breathtaking fatigue.

It... was something he hadn't thought about in years, and yet it seemed as natural as breathing to simply step in with him and ask. To say yes. And it left them feeling both utterly boneless in a way that had long been absent for far too long.

The incredibly astounding results had him staring almost dazedly at the space ahead of him as his mind drew a complete blank at how to function somewhat.

At least until there was a thwap of a towel across the back of his head, and he almost squawked at it. He snatched at it, turning to glare over his shoulder at the man. Clover was grinning to himself as he scrubbed a towel lazily through his hair, and the huntsman resisted the urge to thwap him right back with the end of it.

He knew he was a brat, but it seemed someone else was starting to pick up his habits.

Cheeky.

Qrow still blamed the scalding temperature of the water for the colour that brushed along his cheeks, and he finished drying himself off. It... wasn't often he felt such a bold desire to share himself with someone like this. It still felt vastly different to anything he'd encountered in his youth, and it still surprised him with how tentative it felt in his mind.

How fragile.

Dark brows pinched, towel still scrubbing lightly at dark hair.

It was something that had been wavering in his mind for too long, and he knew now, what choice he had to make. The very thought gripped him tightly within his chest, and he sighed it out shakily before it could take root.

No, came the stark whisper in his mind.

He knew he had to speak up about it, and if his earlier conversation with his family was any indication, he was fast running out of time to clear the air. He bit back the sigh that sat on his tongue as he gave dark hair a final flick, freeing it of the last of the water that clung to him like a shadow.

If things were going to progress tomorrow with James... he had to swallow his hesitation and make his decision known once and for all.


	32. Where Hearts Lay and Where Souls Stray

They lay together in the dark, half-lidded eyes tracing the seams of nothingness as fingers traced the same upon skin. Exhaustion still nipped at them like a black hound, but it held no power over the fuzzy warmth where skin met and thoughts lingered.

Sheets were barely strewn across them in their fatigue, Clover feeling more relaxed than he had in years as he felt content to let his cheek rest upon the heartbeat that resounded within a lithe form. He still felt utterly pliable from earlier. Soft. Not quite the boneless mess he had been, but it was damn near close, as sleep taunted him, lulling him further under with the steady beat of that heart in his senses.

Fingertips traced idle, rhythmic circles upon his marred bicep from where it lay across Qrow's stomach, and it only seemed to add to the decadent invitation to slip further under.

Except for the fact that red eyes had stayed firmly fixed upon the ceiling, unseeing, as thoughts of a different nature played through the huntsman's mind. Clover could feel the delicate note of tension that ran through the body alongside him, and he finally sighed, long and low, letting his breath warm skin that he'd buried himself against.

“... stop thinking so much...”

Dark brows rose slightly, pulled from their reverie as Qrow registered the voice at his heart. The brunet shifted under sheets, pulling himself further up where he lay against that lithe form, so lips could graze the column of a neck, languidly tasting the mark he'd laid upon skin.

“Something's on your mind,” came the blunt statement, and the huntsman could only curl lips upwards in a vague smile.

Qrow leaned in to brush his own kiss into brunet strands, lingering there as red eyes closed softly.

“Guess I'm still a little hazy...” he murmured, letting lips settle at the man's forehead. The breath of a chuckle spilled against his skin and he felt the smile that pressed against him.

“It _was_ pretty amazing...” There was a beat of time, and as Qrow felt the gentle nuzzle at his jaw, he glanced down to meet those green eyes. Clover held his gaze for a handful of heartbeats before he leant up, lips ghosting against his in the barest movement; something of simple adoration and gentle words rather than firm action.

“... thank you...” came the breath against his lips.

Qrow was gently thrown, confused for a moment as the warmth of that featherlight kiss drifted back from his senses. Dark brows pinched faintly, and fingertips upon half-moon scores on a bicep stilled.

“I'll take it, but... what for..?” he intoned softly.

The brunet could only smile as that forehead met his own, and he brought his hand languidly up to trace a delicate fingertip along his sternum, feeling the faint beat of that heart underneath.

“Sharing it with me...” he murmured a little sleepily, searching those red eyes for a beat of time. “Trusting me...”

The brush of colour found its way to Qrow's skin, and he flushed at the words as seemingly every single touch, and brush, and word, and clench of fingers ran through his mind all at once. Each intonation of that voice that sang across his ears like the sweetest music, and each ragged gasp that fell across his senses like static.

He resisted the urge to swallow, as every single memory danced before him, wringing from him a warmth that sat easily beneath skin.

“Oh...” he breathed almost absently, lost as he was to the sudden influx of memory and sensation. “That...”

Clover couldn't help the gentle snort at the summary. Now he  _ knew _ something was playing behind those red eyes, and it was more than the simple haze of afterglow. He nuzzled him gently, the tip of his nose brushing the huntsman's as he smiled lazily against him.

“'That,' he says...” came the soft tease. Qrow would have rolled his eyes if he had the presence of mind; the brunet was particularly pliant with his words, entirely open and saying what simply came to mind. A dangerous combination, given the huntsman's thoughts.

It still didn't stop the wayward thought from striking him gently, and fingertips brushed once more against healing half-moon marks.

“I don't...” Qrow breathed, and he felt the sudden thud of his heart behind a sternum. Dark brows pinched lightly, and he kept foreheads pressed together, wondering intimately if his distracted words had somehow been misconstrued. “Just... so we're clear, I don't have any regrets about it. I just...”

His words turned to ash upon his tongue once more, and he knew he was pouring himself into the thick of his dilemma. To make matters worse, those green eyes were softly analysing the hesitation that had already taken ahold of him. Clover had lifted fingers from an arm lay slung across a stomach, and Qrow felt them skirt the column of his neck, unable to stop himself from swallowing lightly.

Oh but he couldn't hide himself from those eyes now that he'd started.

Red eyes flicked between Clover's before he took in a quiet breath, letting it still in his throat. Without a word of warning, he shifted; one leg slipped over Clover's waist as Qrow moved to straddle him easily, and fingers were back upon skin, finding the warmth of his chest once more.

They lingered for a moment, eyes searching gently and the huntsman cursing himself even further, even as Clover's fingertips found his clothed thighs, idle circles drawn upon skin. For a long moment, the only sound was that of the snow scratching at the windows as the storm still blew outside. There was no way forward but straight ahead, and he knew with certainty that he'd forced himself firmly into his own corner; boxed himself in with little chance to escape.

Not until he'd said his piece.

He couldn't help but let the furrow in his brow soften, and he approached his words as gentle as the sunrise upon a new day, delicate upon the snow.

“If you were allowed to be selfish... what would you want?”

It fell from him like a confession, hushed and forbidden, and fingers continued to trace along pants, Clover mulling over the words for a brief length of time.

“... for all of this to be over,” he told him, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “For our cities to find peace. Remnant, really. For the threat of Salem to be gone. For you to... find your happiness.”

Those fingers stopped, and Qrow drew his hands alongside one another on the man's chest, feeling firm muscle beneath and letting him delicately step through his words.

“I'd...” The thought was lost to the brunet as he stared up at those red eyes. What more was there to it than that?

Hands upon his chest shifted, as fingertips slid their way further up, finding the dip of a hollow at his throat, further up the column of his neck, and settling about his cheeks in a touch so gentle it made something twist deep within Clover's chest.

“You'd what..?” the huntsman breathed, eyes unmoving from the man's as a thumb brushed faintly against skin.

If the brunet was unnerved by the intensity of that gaze upon him, he showed no mark of it upon his expression. He simply let green eyes flick between the ones staring down at him, and hands settled fully upon the huntsman's thighs, holding gently.

Grounding himself against the huntsman and in turn, letting him feel there was no separation between them.

“... want nothing more than your happiness,” he repeated simply, as if there were nothing more to it. As if there was nothing else in the world that he wanted. Which, to Clover's mind, there utterly wasn't. He'd long since made up his mind about chasing down Qrow's happiness, and ensuring it was in his grasp.

The fingers upon his skin gave a delicate press, something almost missed if it weren't for the gentle ache that flickered behind those red eyes. It was something the brunet wasn't hoping to see anytime soon, or ever again, really.

It brought the sobering pause to his thoughts.

“You, Clover,” that voice came before he could give rise to the question upon his lips. “What do _you_ want..?”

No,  _ that  _ brought the hesitation to him, and his brow furrowed lightly at the devotion behind the huntsman's words. Hands drew further up to a lithe waist, hoping to ground the both of them from the way words had strayed and straggled unexpectedly.

Clover knew the tone of that voice.

It spoke to him of time shared upon a lone bench overlooking an Atlas vista. It told him of faltering hesitation that he was the one person not wanting to be pushed away. It brought with him a wealth of exhaustion and sadness as he spoke deeply of the misgivings of his semblance.

It burrowed deep into his skin like a shard of glass and he felt his own heart beat in his throat.

There was an ache in that question and it caught in his lungs like smoke, threatening to choke and smother him. But he wouldn't let it. Not until he'd found the cause of this fire.

Brows furrowed as one of his hands left the huntsman's waist, fingertips tracing a path to his stomach and brushing a delicate path upwards to his chest. He glided along the span of his neck and briefly felt the pulse that sat beneath skin, skittering heavily despite the calm that swam in those red eyes.

Clover curled his fingers about a jaw, feeling the conflict of soft skin and stubble.

It was only then that dark brows fractured, and Clover saw the flicker through his mask.

“... where is all this coming from?” he breathed.

The question seemed to almost catch the huntsman unawares, as if he hadn't even thought of being challenged over it, and red eyes blinked faintly at him. The breath stilled in the huntsman's lungs and briefly – the barest flicker of a heartbeat – his gaze ducked away from the sight of green staring intently up at him, fingers trailing gently back from cheeks to curl lightly atop his chest once more.

For a moment, the tables had gently turned.

Qrow allowed the brush of a smile to grace his lips, but it was small, faint and looking so utterly out of place for the deep ache that lingered in those red eyes. It pulled the furrow further to the brunet's brow, and where once it had been something somewhere deep, utterly buried...

Clover felt doubt take root.

“... I guess... you could say I've been doing some thinking...”

The tone of that voice was supposed to be something casual. Something smooth to help ease the man's worries, but all it did was the complete opposite. Clover drew in a deeper breath, trying to smother the smoke in his lungs and he couldn't help the way his own hold upon skin tightened, ever so gently.

“You, Qrow.”

The huntsman was once again thrown by the man's quick words, and that smile faltered, chased away by the firm tone.

Green eyes stared up at him with an intensity that he hadn't been expecting and it stilled him entirely. Hushed his thoughts down to nothingness that left him silent under its power.

A thumb brushed his cheek, the only move either of them had made since the challenge had been spoken.

“I want you.”

The same words spoken by him not hours ago, but in the space between them, there was a different tone of heaviness that wrapped about every syllable. It was a declaration. A soft desperation. Qrow swallowed through a tight throat as he realised the meaning behind them, and how the man had simply answered his question from earlier.

The huff of a laugh spilt from him, and he felt something in his chest fray. One hand drifted from the man's chest to delicately cover the one about his own as rings pressed gently, and he leant into that touch, a more genuine smile ghosting across his lips.

“... then we really are on the same page...”

Clover could only stare up at him as the words took a moment to settle upon him; their implications almost lost to the thud of his heart beneath his sternum.

He  _ needed  _ to know now.

_ Absolutely  _ needed to before the roots could spread any further, and he swallowed lightly, tamping down on the reaction as best as he could.

“I'm... not sure I follow,” he told him softly. If Qrow were worried about his earlier words being misconstrued, then he knew without a doubt that the same thing had happened once more, and he shook his head faintly, hoping that his softer smile would be enough to help chase away the doubt he saw in those eyes.

Fingertips curled upon skin and the man's hand. “Maybe I want to... skip ahead to the end..?”

He almost managed to let his words slip free without faltering, yet giving them voice, actually saying them aloud... well.

He was surprised Clover couldn't hear the way his pulse sounded in his ears. But with the way those green eyes had gently widened at his words, staring up at him in lingering silence that stretched into the warmth between them...

The brunet had been dreading the opposite ever since the question had first been posed to him, and doubt had flared in his stomach like a spark. Feared hearing something else entirely. But this...

Clover was almost glad he was already laying down.

And he immediately felt the roots of doubt torn up from the soil, cast upon the icy earth and left to wither.

“... you what..?”

The whisper of a breath was almost lost to the scratch of snowfall upon the windows as the man could do little else but stare up at him with resounding stillness.

Qrow drew in a deeper roll of breath, refusing to let it catch in his throat as he nodded softly. Faint. Barely caught unless those eyes had been firmly upon him.

“... the... the part where I stay here, I mean. And not... not after everything's said and done.” He explained softly, almost too quickly, and he felt the brief flicker of panic in the back of his throat. “Nothing would... I mean...” his voice trailed off as the words collapsed on his tongue, and he let out the quiet shudder of a breath as he tried to give the days of his turmoil a solid voice. He could feel his shoulders tighten, no matter how relaxed he had once been, and he rapidly felt his nerve began to falter. No matter how heavy it had weighed upon his thoughts in the last few days, no matter how long he balanced the outcomes, no matter how close he'd come to his decision...

… it still didn't stop his own spoken words from terrifying him, and he was rapidly wavering on his decision to have opened his mouth at all.

Especially with the way it seemed to have stilled Clover to the point of doing little else but stare up at him in delicate and resounding surprise.

Oh, but those red eyes couldn't stay focused on the rawness of his gaze, and he blinked away, curling fingers closer about the hand at his cheek. He couldn't help the flush of embarrassed heat that sat along his neck, and he almost drew his bottom lip between teeth.

There was a  _ damn  _ good reason he hadn't spoken of it to the man earlier, and hesitation sat ripe on his tongue and buried freshly within his chest, ready to overtake him entirely.

The thumb at his cheek gave a single stroke, and he closed his eyes at it, brow furrowed heavily as his own doubt flowed freely through him.

“... but... your family...” came the only breath of sound between them, and the words tracked in the direction that Qrow had been utterly dreading. For a man who had been openly proclaiming he wanted little else but the huntsman's happiness, Clover had managed to expertly zero in on the one thing that shattered it to the ground.

Red eyes slivered open, caught absently as they stared off to the side.

“They...”

His voice faded as he lowered his gaze a little.

“I haven't told them. They don't...”

Fingers curled almost tightly about the man's hand, rings pressing into skin as a new shame burned through him. He'd had so many chances, so many opportunities to talk to them that half a dozen automatically came to mind.

He'd had...

“They don't know I've been... I've been thinking about it,” he breathed, and part of him almost twisted with shame at the small admission. “Not this soon, I mean...”

He'd had  _ so much  _ time and now he'd have to tell them in the  _ worst  _ way possible.

“Qrow, that...” the breath was lost between them as Clover faintly shook his head. “That seems like a pretty important thing to tell them...”

Dark brows pinched, and the words did nothing but hammer the spike of shame further into his chest. He drew in a languid breath, letting it fill his lungs and sit full within him for a handful of time.

It slowly sighed from him, taking with it his hesitation and grief into the air and freeing it from his shoulders. Heat threatened to burn behind red eyes as he clung to rapidly fraying strands.

He wanted to. Gods above and below, he wanted to tell them, but to cross that final stretch and actually say his piece to those closest to him... In hindsight, he was almost proud of the way he'd actually  _ said something _ to Clover. Fumbled and faltering, but he'd placed the seed of days upon days worth of heavy thought before him.

It was simply up to the huntsman to nurture the rest of his words until they'd grown into exactly what he wanted to say.

Exactly what he meant.

… even if his hunch for tomorrow was going to be laid bare for both of them.

“I think...” the breath slipped from him, a bare whisper into the space between them. He almost cursed himself for feeling the way he did; aside from his family, Clover _was_ the only person he could simply be himself about. But to be himself about the man meant acknowledging what he wanted, over what needed to be done.

And the thought left him almost shaking like a leaf with torn emotion.

The words kept getting tangled. The feeling behind them kept warring in his mind. He just-

There  _ was no  _ easy answer, and he despised the way that all he could do was stare away from those deeply focused eyes, looking at nothing else but the wall. Fingers curled upon skin, and Qrow couldn't hide the swarm of turmoil behind his eyes if he tried.

“Well, I think they already know... sort of. I mean-” a huff of ironic amusement, almost bitter upon his tongue and blinking maybe a little too quickly, “-well... we're not going to be travelling together forever, and... I'm getting too old to keep crashing on my brother's couch all the time. And they're young; they've got... they've got their whole lives ahead of them to find a place to call home – _without_ needing to worry about their uncle crashing on _their_ couches either.”

But the abundance of words still burned on his tongue, and the truth tasted bitter the more he spoke.

“So I'd- if... if you'll have me, that is-”

A second hand pressed to his cheeks, framing his face gently and silencing whatever scattered stammerings of words sat on his lips. And in that moment, Qrow finally glanced back at the brunet. Finally saw the man in front of him. Finally saw the way that faint smile, warm and full of adoration for the huntsman, was shining up at him.

Just for him.

It was so full of affection and tenderness that it nearly split his heart in two.

“Qrow...” The gentle brush of his name was waylaid by the way that smile grew, fond and just for him. There was a simple huff of amusement at the way the huntsman couldn't get around his words. “Of course I'd have you here. You mean...”

It was Clover's turn to feel his words tangle upon his tongue, and he closed his mouth as he searched those tormented eyes; the sigh breathing almost heavily from his nose.

“You mean the absolute _world_ to me...”

And just like that, the breath left the huntsman, splintering out of his lungs in a shaky exhale as the simple words swept up everything in their wake, allowing the single slip of a tear to catch on fingers.

How could he ever...

Dark brows pinched, and he felt the fracture of a smile glimmer across his lips in the face of those words. What... could he say to such a heartfelt statement? How was he supposed to counter such an eloquent strike to the back of his neck?

How could he?

All that seemed within his grasp was to smile back at the man, shaky and half-sure as heat burned behind his eyes. All Clover could do was give a gentle pull to cheeks, and Qrow followed him willingly. He pressed a hand to sheets as he leant forward to delicately claim those lips, fitting against them and letting himself lay atop a body so warm.

Fingers slipped from cheeks to thread deeply into dark hair, exploring in faint circles, and the brunet couldn't help the quiet sigh that escaped him. There was nothing hurried between them. Nothing to be gained from it. And they simply indulged in the languid press of lips and warmth where skin touched.

They chose to heal within the touch of one another, and it was all both of them truly needed.

They chose contentment with each other, and it was all either of them could ever want.

Qrow let fingertips glide across skin, feeling each dip of scars and mapping the constellations of his freckles as hands settled at both the strong column of the man's neck and the hollow of his throat.

For within skin sat the steady beat of his pulse, so steady and sure underneath his touch. Within skin sat the strength of his voice, speaking such adoration and words that spilled like silk across his senses. Within skin lay the heat of the man he'd grown so attached to, and fingertips would seek it out.

The brush of fingers upon his neck had been the very first touch Qrow had laid upon his skin.

He wanted little else than to lay claim to it again, in the same way his own mark sat upon skin.

Lips drew back faintly, tasting the warmth of breath upon his own, and he nuzzled him gently, feeling his smile hitch as the brunet matched it with his own. Fingers languidly withdrew from dark locks to brush away the last of starlit tear trails, and Qrow felt himself lean into the delicate touch. Savouring the feel of military roughened fingers painting their affection onto skin. Before he was moving once more, placing a delicate line of adoration to the man's jaw, mouth brushing heat along skin as he felt fingers curl into dark hair.

Qrow found the pulse that lay under skin, and Clover, with a faint tilt of his head and gentle closing of his eyes, allowed those lips to score as far as they wanted. There was promise in the huntsman's mouth, and the brunet wanted nothing else than to hear it whispered upon him.

Lips parted and heat spilled across skin at the first languid brush upon his neck.

And when teeth grazed light along his senses, all Clover could do was draw in a stilted breath and tighten fingers gently into dark hair.

All Qrow wanted to do was etch the aching sound of that voice and feel of skin against his own in his memory for as long as he could.

And do anything but think about the dawn of a new day.

***

The dark of night came and went, as beading sunlight upon the horizon began to wash the world in its blaze once more. Fiery light touched the mountains in deep hues as life stirred beneath it all.

Like the spark of a hearth freshly stoked, activity swelled within the Academy as people started their day anew, and one such person had already begun their journey to speak with the man in charge of it all.

The sigh touched Winter's lips as she perused the contents of her day. From where the simple holographic display sat in the air before her, it was yet another sharply controlled and tightly fit series of meetings and missions, debriefings and debates, squabbles and solutions. In the scant moment of time she had to herself in the elevator, she almost found it soothing to peruse her schedule. Something that only _she_ had control over, and no one else.

She almost bit back the murmur of disapproval as one particular name crossed her agenda, but she knew it was moot to try and fight it.

Dealing with her father was _always_ tedious, no matter how brief the matter.

She almost envied Weiss and her ability to simply slip out from his grasp as easily as she had.

Ice blue eyes lost their focus for a moment, and the thought gently chided her that no, it hadn't been easy for her sister at all; quite the opposite, in fact. And she would forever be paying for her supposed 'crimes' in his eyes.

Her own eyes narrowed at the thought. The man had no right to ever say such things about Weiss; she'd simply done what she had to survive, and along the way had found more of a spine and set of morals than he ever would in his lifetime.

The faint hum of amusement slipped from her, and she tucked her scroll away. Let him be as petty as he wanted; at the end of the day, Weiss' happiness was always going to eclipse his simple tantrums.

And she would eternally have more pressing matters to attend to. First and foremost, that blight of a snowstorm that ripped through the cities overnight, and she resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in trickling irritation. For the most part, Mantle was spared its deluge, thanks to the heating system. Atlas was another matter, and she sighed almost heavily. The city had its own system to ward off snow and ice, but for a sudden and blistering snowstorm of such magnitude at their current altitude...

It was yet another massive clean-up effort, and would once again creep further into their busy lives.

There came a soft ding from the elevator, and without looking up at the floor number, stepped into the hallway.

And spotted one Qrow Branwen, as he stood staring up at the sky beyond the glass dome above him, hands resting gently upon hips. Her lips quirked in faint amusement as she approached him, hearing the nearby babble of his charges as they took in the view from a nearby window.

Ruby, in her usual measure of calm level-headedness, had taken to pointing excitedly at nearly every and all buildings she could see through the clearing haze of snow clouds, and Penny could do little else but laugh and name every single one of them without hesitation. It was sending the rest of their group into complete laughter, as the poor huntress didn't seem to realise that Penny's incredibly enhanced eyesight and access to all of Atlas' infrastructure were the main reason for her rapidfire responses.

The girl merely thought the plucky android was simply wonderful and utterly amazing, and it brought the gentle warmth to her chest.

It... was nice to see Penny making friends.

She could also see why her sister was so enamoured with them all, and as if dipping into her thoughts, the younger Schnee spotted her, offering a bright wave. Winter could only politely return it as she drew to a stop next to Qrow.

“You're all here rather early,” she remarked, bringing faintly surprised red eyes down to hers. “I feel the need to ask if something was on fire to cause it.”

The huff of a laugh fell from the huntsman's lips, and he gestured lightly to the group.

“Not exactly,” he replied, glancing over at his young charges, easy smile on his expression. “They get a bee in their bonnets about doing something, they see it through; one, almost immediately, and two, to the bitter end.” He glanced back at her, offering a noncommittal shrug of a shoulder. “Which means today, they're seeing James first thing to sort a few things out.”

Winter gave a faint nod, knowing the General was booked with them for a scant amount of time. Regarding what, she still hadn't a clue, but Qrow was certainly right about their tenacity. Once they'd set their minds to something, there was little else that would change it.

Their rather tumultuous arrival to Atlas had been a testament to  _that_ statement.

She could see that same streak in her sister, and once again she found herself silently glad that she'd surrounded herself with such heartfelt people. Her gaze cast across the gathering of them, and they really did appear to have nary a care in the world.

Yet they carried the  _utter_ weight of it upon them with such grace.

Her brow pinched as a certain string of melancholy ran through her. They were doing the best they could, doing what they could to survive, just as Weiss had told her, and still they bared the burden with a will of steel.

_ They're strong – far stronger than anyone would ever give them credit for, and I've come to trust them with my sister's heart more than you could ever know. _

Her own words stirred in her heart, and she resisted the sigh that tinted her tongue. Here she was, standing with the former, absolute thorn in her side; someone she'd once held a long-term grudge against, musing over _both_ of their families with nought but tender affection in their hearts. She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of their situation.

Qrow's sigh brought her to the room once more, and he reached up to rub at the back of his neck as he watched his little family enjoying themselves.

Those red eyes were watching them all with that certain level of pride that always came when he was with them. That would never change, she knew, and it warmed her heart to see such a fondness in his gaze.

_ I'm grateful to him. He's given her something that few ever have _ .

Her own words couldn't help but wring the faint brush of a smile to her lips, but...

… there was a sadness in his eyes, too. One that seemed different to the usual shade that clung to him.

There was hesitation in her thoughts as she lingered on him, and she ducked her gaze away for a moment.

“... Qro-”

The ding of the elevator behind them silenced whatever question lay on her tongue, and she almost cursed her luck. Ice blue eyes glanced over her shoulder as the General appeared, talking with Clover and gesturing lightly as he spoke. Perhaps she'd be able to speak with him later, she mused, turning away from the huntsman to greet her colleagues with a smart salute.

“Good morning, General, Captain.”

Clover returned the sharp gesture as they drew to a stop before the duo, and his stance relaxed a little. Green eyes couldn't help but glance at the huntsman, and the wry brush of a smile caught his expression before he glanced over at the gathering at the window.

“They seem to be enjoying themselves for so early in the morning,” he commented lightly.

James could only mirror the man's smile, following his gaze. “It's good to see in times like these.” The gentle tone of his voice settled over the huntsman, and as the rest of them kept their eyes on his young charges, he let red eyes briefly flick to the floor.

He knew they were all having the time of their lives in Atlas, and had more than earned the break, but...

Those eyes narrowed faintly.

No, they all came here for a reason, and he wanted to get it over and done with, just like ripping a bandaid.

He drew his gaze back up to his family, and without a lick of warning, fingers ducked to his lips to let out a deathly sharp whistle that blistered through the air, snapping every eye towards him. Winter startled hard as the sound ripped across her senses from a bare foot away, and she glared heatedly back up at the man.

“Eyes up, kids! We've got a meeting to-”

He was cut off as an elbow cracked him sharply in the stomach, whacking the air from him and he reached for the tender area. Red eyes blinked down at the woman and her sudden attack, dire confusion ripe on his expression.

“Wh-”

“Do you have  _ any  _ sense of respect for people's hearing in enclosed spaces?” she snapped at him. “Unbelievable...” Winter could do little else but sigh curtly at him, turning on her heel and walking smartly towards the General's office. The huntsman could only watch her go, still a little surprised over her immediate reaction; despite all the smoothing over between them, maybe he was  _ still  _ a little uncouth for her tastes.

James could only chuckle soundlessly at her actions as their smaller gathering began to grow, and with a sweep of his gaze across them all, settled easily into his role of General once more.

“Well... now  _ that's _ out of the way, shall we get started?”

At the simple chorus of nods, he walked towards the large doors at the end of the hall, and the young group followed after him, chatting lightly amongst themselves. Clover leaned his head in lightly to the huntsman as they took up the rear of the group.

“Unorthodox... but, effective,” he intoned softly, and it drew the soft snicker from the other. Red eyes glanced over to him, and offered him a nonchalant shrug.

“Hey, it's one of the few things that works on 'em,” he replied without missing a beat, and it brought the gentle laugh to the brunet's lips. “You try getting the attention of a bunch of raucous teenagers when all they want to do is talk and shout in a tiny room.”

Clover could only smile knowingly at the truth behind his words, realising all too well what it was like to settle a room full of cadets; people who should've known better, let alone  _a bunch of teenagers_ .

The huntsman, however, still harboured fond memories of nights with those same raucous teenagers in Haven, not long after they reunited. It was like trying to herd cats at the best of times. Loud, overbearing, cats, and he could only smile warmly at the memories it wrought. Either alongside each of them, and enjoying the laughter and light they all brought to the table, or falling asleep upstairs to the muffled shrieks of delight and hollers of laughter echoing up through thin floorboards.

Waking  _ up  _ to all of that was another thing entirely, and he was undeniably grateful he could now do it without the ever-present headache from the previous night.

He couldn't help the wistful smile that lingered on his expression, yet he knew there was no point in straying too deep into the past like that. He drew in a slow breath, bringing himself back to the present and the same cluster of family that were walking ahead of him now.

Qrow let his eyes follow every single one of them as they walked through the large oaken doors and into the relatively dim light of the immense office. Kids, he'd called them, time and time again.

_ Kids. _

And yet each one before him were a testament to the struggles that life had firmly placed before them. Each one of them, a force to be reckoned with. Each one of them, more of an adult than most of the actual ones around them.

They'd seen things that would break others; cause them to wither and crumple, and yet still his family pressed on. But... they weren't without their own set of struggles. No one ever was.

Brows pinched faintly as he thought back on what he'd already seen each of them go through – their own personal demons and heavy regrets – snatches of memories with each of them immediately coming to mind, and he resisted the urge to give in the sigh on his tongue. They were strong – stronger than most – and he prayed to whatever gods were left that they would continue to be strong enough not to break under it all.

_They deserved the chance to just forget about everything for a while, and go back to being the kids they used to be, before... before Beacon fell._

The simple snatch of words came to mind, spoken by the man alongside him, and he felt the wistful smile return to him once more. He'd forever be grateful to him, he knew. And not just for the way he'd helped his family in more ways than one.

He really had slipped so easily into his new role, as much as he'd been accepted as one of their own...

There was a soft clearing of a throat next to him, bringing him back up from his thoughts, and he glanced over to the brunet. Those green eyes held his for a moment before flitting to the huntsman's neck, and he turned his attention forward once more. Clover snaked a hand up to his own neck, tapping skin lightly as heat gathered across cheeks.

Qrow could only blink back at him for a moment, even as his own fingers reached up to obliviously brush along the side of his neck where the brunet indicated. And the penny violently dropped with all the force of a boulder, red eyes widening and darting rigidly ahead once more, colour dusting across his skin.

With as much subtlety as he could muster, hands nonchalantly reached up to his vest, quickly undoing the top button so he could reach the grey shirt beneath. Keeping his movements languid and precise and most of all unnoticeable, all whilst trying to ignore the race of his pulse; he buttoned his grey shirt all the way up to the collar, completely obscuring the white layer beneath and redoing his vest once more.

Of all the-

He swallowed lightly, surprised as  _ hell _ that no one had said anything to him earlier. Gods, he hadn't even been taunted by his family, and  _ that _ was a miracle in and of itself. A bunch of teenagers seeing  _ that? _ His life would be utterly  _ forfeit. _ The colour threatened to break further across his skin and he ducked his eyes to the ceiling, smoothing his hands down the front of his vest.

The sigh traced from him, thinking only of how lucky he was that it was  _ Clover _ who spied the telltale mark upon skin, and no one else.

At least, until the faint snicker of amusement slipped delicately into the air next to him, and he found his own lips quirking in response.

“Don't you  _ dare _ say a thing...” he ground out softly.

“Not a word...” the man breathed in response, almost unable to keep the smile from his face.

At the head of their group, shy of a raised dais, James stopped to face them all, blue eyes sweeping across the small gathering before settling onto the girl that drew them all together. He settled his hands at the small of his back, standing a little taller, becoming the General once more.

“Now, how can I be of assistance to you?”


	33. Conclusions and Confusions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today of all days, see  
> How the most dangerous thing is to love 
> 
> ~ Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths

Within the vastness of the office, the gentle words brought the smile to Ruby's expression, and she nodded lightly at him, the leader of her team and spokesperson for them all once more.

“As you know, we've been in Atlas for a while now, and even though the break has been, well... kind of amazing actually,” a soft laugh fell from her, “we... need to talk about what brought us here in the first place.”

James took her words gently, glancing briefly to the floor as he mulled over his own reply to the sudden heavy topic. Not something he expected first thing in the morning, and yet...

“The Relics,” he surmised simply. He drew in a breath, letting it sigh from him as he brought a hand to his beard, stroking lightly. “It was inevitable that we'd discuss them, I suppose.”

He narrowed his eyes in thought, lining up the pieces within his mind. Wondering which one to move first. At his pause, Yang stepped forward, alongside her sister.

“Uncle Qrow's already told us everything he knows,” she told him. “But we were hoping that maybe you know anything else that might help?”

Those blue eyes blinked back at her, and glanced up at the huntsman in question. “He has?” the words slipped from him, surprise in their tone. Qrow could only hold up a hand as he met that gaze evenly, languid smile on his face.

“Relax, James,” came the smooth words. Why was nearly  _ everyone _ so surprised he'd tell his family about what he knew? “I've got an open door policy with what I tell them, but even I know there's gaps. I've given them everything I know about the Relics, but that only extends so far without Oz's input.”

He gestured lightly to the man. “And since you're the only one here who knows anything about the system utilising the Staff, they thought it best to go straight to the top. Fill in the blanks.”

The General took his words at simple face value, letting them settle upon him and giving the huntsman a faint nod.

Jaune smiled faintly at the huntsman across his shoulder, and turned his gaze back to the older man. “Like Ruby said, the break's been amazing, and it's been incredible to be able to finally call ourselves huntsmen and huntresses here in Atlas, of all places,” he gave a soft laugh, returning his gaze to the General. “Being able to work alongside everyone here and gain some experience has been a hell of a ride, but... we have our own mission to complete.”

Winter had been listening to them present their queries, finger curled at her chin and eyes downcast. The low sound fell from her as she finally glanced up at them all.

“That in and of itself poses a problem,” she began. Weiss met her gaze, a hand falling to her hip.

“The fact that the Staff can only be used for one thing at a time, right? And Atlas is still in the sky?” The elder sister seemed delicately surprised at her succinct answer, and could only stare back at her, mutely nodding in response. Qrow had  _ indeed  _ filled them in.

“Oh, Atlas remaining in the sky is not a problem at all,” Penny remarked. “In fact, quite the opposite to that statement is true.” Clover gave a short sigh at her rather blunt words, brows furrowing lightly.

The brunet gave a deep noise of thought, folding his arms across his chest, eyes focused on the ground. “Penny's right. Lowering the city without any sort of preparation is only going to be problematic...” he mused aloud, letting his thoughts pour through the room. “The level of infrastructure within Atlas' crater would stop it from resettling properly, not to mention everything that's been constructed underneath  _ this _ city since its initial raising, too.”

All eyes in the group delicately met one another, and they realised it was something they hadn't even  _ considered _ .

“Not only that,” James continued for him, “if anything was done to remove any of it – above  _ or  _ below – we'd be denying far too many future jobs from  _ many _ of Mantle's citizens; something I'm sure we can all agree would be catastrophic.” The sigh touched his lips as he drew his hands together at the small of his back, eyes once more unfocused on the ground as he shook his head faintly.

“My position on the council isn't absolute, and to do something as drastic as uprooting the livelihood of nearly two-thirds of the combined population would  _ not _ be favourable.”

He drew his gaze up to the group, sweeping across each of them in turn.

“The mining industry is the  _ backbone _ of Mantle, and to do anything to destroy it for the future, would be destroying an  _ already  _ tenuous relation with the people.”

Nora could only roll her eyes, and the soft snort fell quietly from Weiss as she glanced away from the man.

“... it's only tenuous because you  _ allow it  _ to be...” the redhead murmured to herself, and it drew the barest murmur of agreeance from Blake. The Faunus glanced over her shoulder, meeting those defiant pale blue eyes, knowing it would do little good to swing the conversation towards  _ that _ particular topic, even if they'd already begun to skirt the edges of it.

It was a mindset all of them shared – always do what they could and what's best for the people around them – and it simply hurt to know that in this situation, their hands were  _ beyond  _ tied.

They were navigating a minefield by feel, and were so far out of their depth it was crazy.

“Then... what about Atlas?” Oscar spoke up from nearby. He baulked faintly as all eyes turned to him, and he was a little lost for a moment as he plucked at his thoughts, snatching at something cohesive. “If... nothing can be done without harming Mantle, then can't Atlas simply be moved elsewhere and lowered? I mean... there's nothing but space on the tundra, and having the substructure nestle atop its own cavern would mean... nothing would need to be done to remove it.”

The young man took a moment to clear his throat softly, and he gestured lightly as he continued. “Some of the work is even half done already, what with all the abandoned mining tunnels out there under the ice. And it shouldn't been too hard to excavate them and expose them to the surface.”

Qrow ran the idea through his head, and couldn't help but huff in amusement as he smiled wryly at him. “Making a whole new crater? That seems like the best shot without uprooting a  _ lot _ of people and destabilising their jobs too much,” he told him, and the boy could only smile brightly back at him.

“ _ Moving _ Atlas...”

The General's tone was utterly incredulous, and it drained the brightness from their smiles as they faced him once more. Those blue eyes skirted across the young man – the  _ boy _ – that had suggested it, and he swallowed the thick layer of words that wanted to fall from him in retort. No. No, he had to be clear about it.

And from his very suggestion, it make it  _ starkly _ apparent to him that Ozpin was no longer with him.

“That... would be an  _ incredibly  _ heavy undertaking...” he breathed, brow furrowing lightly as his lips pressed into a thin line. “It would take nearly the same level of preparation – probably  _ more _ – in order to safely excavate a crater that could support the weight of the city  _ and _ prevent damaging the substructure.”

Qrow gave a light snort, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the response. “What, you got any better ideas, James?”

The man felt the crease in his brow deepen, not from anger, but the note of frustration at the seemingly throwaway suggestion; especially considering his friend seemed completely onboard with it, too. He knew they didn't have all the facts, but to not see the very picture before them was astounding. He drew in a steadying breath, letting it sit in his chest for a moment before it trailed from him.

“It would more than  _ double  _ the pressure upon both our cities,” he continued, seeing far beyond whatever else they could present. “Removing and transporting vital excavation equipment from the mines would be a time-consuming venture. Providing the  _ basic  _ level of safety and protection for citizens and personal to work outside of Mantle's walls would strain our already thin forces. All to dig what is simply a rather large  _ and _ temporary resting place.”

He glanced away for a moment, blue eyes returning to the young boy who had posed the question.

“Not to mention, it would divert critical resources away from the Amity project. And that is  _ not _ something I am prepared to sacrifice.”

His tone swathed the room in a thick blanket of silence, and it was a firm end to an idea that seemed to be their best shot.

“Well, what about using the land that already surrounds Atlas to our advantage?” Blake asked him bluntly. “If nothing can be done to create a new resting place for Atlas in the ground, why not use the mountains?”

James seemed to pause at her words, brows raising faintly at the possibility, and he once more ran the notion through his mind. He mulled over it for a long moment before he faintly shook his head, returning his gaze to her.

“As good of a compromise that might be, it still poses many of the same problems as working on the tundra – potentially moreso with the rough terrain,” he explained, almost gently. He held her amber gaze for a moment before the sigh fell from him, heavy and final to her ears.

“The notion of moving Atlas –  _ anywhere – _ to rejoin the land, is one  _ wrought _ with problems. Whilst I appreciate these may be some of the best ideas for such a dilemma, it's... something that isn't feasible without spending  _ vast  _ amounts of time and resources upon.”

He glanced away, turning blue eyes to the edge of a bookshelf as he gathered his words.

“And it's that very time and those very resources that will  _ always  _ be needed firstly for the Amity project, and  _ then _ for Mantle.”

It was a tone that meant the man wouldn't budge, and Qrow felt his breath still in his chest as realisation began to snake about his boots. He felt it bead in his stomach, and his gaze lowered to the floor, and the mockery of the Staff that greeted him.

James wasn't going to give it up, just like he thought. And they hadn't even  _ broached _ the potential other topic of Fria, yet. The man was completely locked down and ready to prioritise what needed to be done, just as always.

Just like his own family, once the man reached a decision, nothing could sway him.

His hunch was clawing at the forefront of his thoughts, rapidly gaining traction against its glass cage.

He swallowed through a suddenly tight throat, and was vaguely aware that the conversation had moved on; hearing only the way his heart thudded in his ears. Red eyes blinked up to the rest of them, feeling warm under his collar and wishing he didn't need to have it buttoned so high.

“-think there's another possibility? What about  _ actually  _ using Gravity Dust, like your cover story goes?”

Yang's voice cut through his thoughts as if his head had just broken through the surface of the water, and red eyes ducked up to her. In the corner of his gaze, he caught the way Winter's sigh traced from her as she repositioned how she stood. He knew that stance meant she was nearly done with the conversation.

That nothing would change  _ her _ mind, either.

“The amount of Dust required to keep Atlas in the sky would be putting further strain on the mining industry; something that they could  _ sorely  _ do without,” she explained to the blonde. “And without stripping Amity Colosseum of every remaining skerrick of Dust, there simply wouldn't be enough to make the switch.

“Retrieving the Staff from the Vault is something that  _ cannot _ be done on a mere request, no matter how dire your mission is,” she continued. Her words conveyed a level of sympathy Qrow didn't think he'd ever heard from her before, and it was enough to wrench him free of the waves. The woman shook her head, gaze falling to the rest of them, and settling upon her sister.

“Whatever ideas or strategies you present will, at best, require months upon months of preparation, and that is something we simply cannot afford to do. I'm sorry, but... with the way things are at the moment, there's nothing that can be done.”

There was a heaviness in her words, a finality, and it threaded through each of them. Clover narrowed green eyes faintly, and the trickle of something cold threaded along his spine. She sounded almost... like she was  _ grieving _ her choice. Why would she-

Qrow slowly reached to his stomach, unseen, and ring adorned fingers curled almost tightly into his vest.

Red eyes fell to his nieces, seeing little else in the room, and the pulse in his ears drowned everything out.

The dark head of hair before him lowered for a moment, and Ruby brought her own hand to her chest. She drew her bottom lip between teeth as she mulled over her own words. That was it, then. There was no way to continue their mission and retrieve the Staff without adding  _ months _ to the journey, just as she and Jaune had thought.

Not without hurting the people of both Atlas and Mantle.

Not without disrupting everything the General had been working towards in unifying the world once more.

Not without...

Her own hand curled further into fabric, and her chest ached tremendously.

Not without breaking her Uncle's heart entirely...

“Then we...” her voice began, and it sounded strange to her own ears. Faint. Weak. Not at all like a leader. Not at all like someone who thought first and foremost of her family. Not at all with any measure of strength.

She swallowed lightly, bringing her gaze back up the General and her hand lowered to her side once more, straightening under his eyes and letting the thin breath escape her.

Their team leader once more.

“Then... we can't stay here. We...” she trailed off for a moment, steeling herself. “We need to move on... to collect the remaining Relics.”

Qrow's fingers clutched so tight in fabric it  _ hurt _ .

At his side, green eyes widened faintly, the man straightening lightly and brows raising in realisation as something clicked sharply in Clover's mind. It fell into place with all the weight of a dead tree branch snapping and shattering to the ground. He felt all tension in his body slowly drain from him, slackening his shoulders entirely, and the young woman's words burrowed deep into his skin, rolling over and over and seizing the breath in his chest.

They couldn't... stay...

His focus was lost to the world about him and he searched absently through the sea of colours about the room, before he slowly tracked his eyes to the huntsman at his side.

Where Clover felt boneless at the words, Qrow was...

Those fingers harboured a faint tremor with the hold he had upon his stomach, and the shattering ache within those red eyes slowly slipped from view as he closed them, lost under a deeply furrowed brow.

The operative was caught, and he felt the thrum of his heart behind his sternum. He realised he couldn't do anything that wouldn't draw attention to the huntsman, and he slowly unthreaded his arms from across his chest, letting them fall lax at his sides, green eyes never moving from him as the stark realisation of his words the night before became apparent.

This was...

This was why he had asked...

Green eyes blinked, lost to everything around him as he turned his gaze back to the floor in front of him, rapidly trying to process and condense the facts before him. They were... the teams were...

And Qrow had decided...

He swallowed through a suddenly tight and dry throat, feeling it almost catch, and it drove a spike of pain into him.

But gods above and below, nothing could hurt him as much as this was hurting the huntsman.

In a stark moment of clarity, he realised he couldn't  _ not _ do anything, and regardless of what attention it might've drawn, he felt his hand reaching out, brushing the backs of fingers against ones still so lax at the huntsman's side. The effect was almost immediate, and red eyes startled softly back to the world, blinking back up at the man with a rawness so vulnerable it nearly made his own heart shatter.

Those fingers lingered together, a grounding moment for both of them, and for a moment of utter loss, Qrow could only stare back at him as he gathered together what had fallen about his feet.

Scraped it together, really. Like the broken remains of a vase hurled towards the floor.

But he wouldn't break here.

That shaky line of a smile brushed upon lips, marred and fractured, but as stable as he could manage, and fingers threaded together with the brunet's. Warm. Sure. Drinking deep from the man's seemingly endless well of support.

Qrow could see, intimately, that Clover knew exactly what Ruby's words meant, and he gave that hand a gentle squeeze. His priorities were firmly upon his family going into this, and still they remained upon them as the meeting before them progressed.

“-the Amity project?”

Winter's voice cut through them both, a strange note of shock in her tone. Qrow was the first to look back at her, knowing they'd missed a vital snatch of conversation in the interim, and dark brows furrowed lightly. Clover could only keep his gaze firmly upon the huntsman, trying desperately not to let the ache within his chest burrow its way out of his skin.

“It... would mean we'd eventually need to take a step back from it, yes,” Weiss replied haltingly to her sister.

How did he simply not fold under the weight of such a decision?

“We can still help you as best as we can for a time,” Ruby hastened to add. “But...”

How the _hell_ had he managed to hold it in for so long?

“We need to... be mindful of our own mission,” the young woman continued. “Just as you are with yours, ma'am.”

Clover felt his own brow furrow, and he slowly let his gaze trail to the floor before them both.

“Oh, but this is wonderful news, though!” Penny exclaimed, clapping her hands together. The tension in the room seemed to falter somewhat, as the others turned their attention to the plucky redhead, and she could do little else but beam at them.

“Why, it means we get to have a going away party for you all!”

The effect was immediate, and a handful of snuffles and bright laughter spilled from them. Of all of them, Penny was always the best at shining the brightest and seeing the greatest spark of hope; it was no wonder Ruby had become fast friends with her. Even Qrow had to huff out a faint laugh at her words, and red eyes closed softly for a moment. Tucking the rest of his feelings away. Reaching for the skills of a spy and his masks to help him once more.

Focusing only on what needed to be said and done for others, instead.

“Seems like we've got even more things to plan now,” he announced simply, and his voice was enough to stir the brunet at his side back to the room once more. The huntsman drew his gaze back up to his old friend, raising a pointed brow at him, even as his smile came easily to him. “And I think this morning has given us  _ all  _ a few things to think about.”

James took the simple words with grace, and he couldn't help the amused smile that crossed his expression. His friend was nothing, if not eternally blunt, and he would always appreciate the honesty from him. It was a trait the rest of his family seemed to share, it seemed.

“Mm, I see how it is,” he replied with good humour, fingers lightly brushing across cuffs to straighten them once more. “Still... I apologise if this meeting hasn't gone as well as you all hoped it would, and I hate to leave off with such a sour note as this, so.”

He brought a hand up to his mouth, clearing his throat softly. “I don't want a single one of you to leave this room with any notion of guilt or sorrow at not being able to complete what you've set out to achieve,” he began softly, glancing at each and every one of them as his words settled, and hands tucked together at the small of his back once more. “The level of professionalism, and dedication, that each of you have brought to this kingdom has been incredible, to say the least. You may have only had your  _ official _ licenses for a short time, but I am  _ more  _ than proud to call every single one of you Remnant's finest huntsmen and huntresses.”

The General paused, blue eyes catching those of his friend, and the smile made itself known as he continued, glancing across them all once more.

“I know for a fact, that regardless of where you may go, or whatever situation you find yourselves facing, it will  _ always  _ be with the best intentions of those around you. And whilst this isn't the ending that any of you had hoped for, it has indeed given us all something to think upon. To work towards.”

Clover felt the breath slip from him, and fingers threaded with his gave a gentle squeeze.

It felt like the very words had slivered straight under his skin and burrowed deep into him. And gods above and below, but how could the huntsman simply stand there and listen to them with that faint smile upon his expression?

How had he-

The operative swallowed lightly, glad that his own mask was one of drastic years of practise, and he returned the gentle squeeze.

“Please know, your time in Atlas has been of great benefit to so many people. Not just to the Military, but to the citizens of both our cities.” James allowed himself a chance to pause, to glance away for a snatch of time, and his smile grew warm. “It's... helped stabilise things... far more than any of you could ever realise.”

Qrow caught the words and dark brows drew upwards before the soft snort left him. James could only glance back at him with a knowing smile.

“Thank you, sir...”

Ruby's breath of a response seemed so small within the vast room.

“It's... been so incredible for us all, and... to be honest... it felt like a bit of a crazy dream to think we'd end up in Atlas, of all places,” she continued with a gentle laugh. She reached up, embarrassment tinting her cheeks as she sorted through her words. “We never really thought that sneaking off to Haven would wind up like this, but... heh, here we are, trying to save the world again.”

Weiss gave a faint snort, elbowing the young woman gently. “ _ Again _ , like it's no big deal...” she murmured, and the soft laugh fell from the rest of her teammates.

Ruby could only smile warmly back at her, and without needing to think upon it, reached for her hand, squeezing it tight.

“I mean, we've  _ all _ gone through a lot to get where we are today,” she continued, glancing at her sister and Blake, and across her shoulder to the rest of their team. The rest of their family.

_ All _ of their family, she thought with utter warmth, silver eyes catching green.

“But you have our promise.” Ruby turned her firm gaze back to the General. “We'll continue to do everything in our power to ensure Remnant's safety.”

James could only stare back at her, caught by the gentle strength behind her words, and he allowed the feeling to settle in his chest. He knew she was strong; had known it for some time now, and at every turn, the reminder was always stark and clear for him to see.

There was a  _ damn  _ good reason Ozpin had placed his trust within the young woman, and it had nothing at all to do with the colour of her eyes.

He closed his own, inclining his head head in simple thought, knowing there was little else but utter truth to her words. If she said they would do whatever they could to save Remnant, then that was what they were going to do.

“Whether it be something as simple as that, or anything else.”

Blue eyes opened to the voice at the back of the room, and Clover met the man's gaze evenly. At his side, Qrow could only stare back at him in stunned recognition, and from his throat bubbled up the soft snuffle of amusement. It took a handful of time for his niece to realise the significance of snatch of words, and she, too, couldn't help the faint laughter that spilled brightly from her.

The operative could only allow the smile to settle upon him, and he glanced at the huntsman, still stuck in his mirth.

At the very least, he was glad to hear the return of that amused sound. The rest would simply fall into place in due time.

“That's quite a way of putting it,” James commented simply, drawing the operative's smile back to him. He returned it simply, knowing it was more than a simple phrase to those that had responded to it, and he briefly let eyes flit to the watch upon his wrist. “Well. I hate to cut this short, but unless there are any other pressing issues, I'm afraid I have some other matters to attend to.”

After a moment of silence, Ruby perked, realising belatedly that she was the designated speaker. “Oh! No, we... we're all set here. We're just glad you let us meet with you like this when you're so busy,” she told him brightly.

The General couldn't help but allow his expression to soften upon her. She truly was something else...

“You're more than welcome,” he told her gently. “Now... I believe you all have some work of your own to attend to. I wish you the best of luck on your missions today.”

Without missing a beat, he drew his gaze up to the pair at the back of the room, the General once more. “Clover, a moment, if you will.”

The brunet almost startled lightly at the call of his name, seemingly forgetting he was part of the man's military and not this rag-tag group of teenagers for a moment. A Captain of the Atlas Military and third in command, not...

… not Uncle Clover, and allowing his heart to ache for that of his family.

There was a squeeze of fingers within his own, and green eyes met the huntsman's gaze for a moment as the teams began to file out around them. How Qrow could simply keep smiling considering all that had surrounded them during their meeting was a wonder; almost a testament to the strength of his heart, no matter what he thought of himself.

There was an eternally cautious hesitation in the operative when it came to matters of the heart, where the huntsman simply rolled with whatever life decided to throw at him.

It forged him from far stronger stuff than Clover could ever know.

“Go on,” Qrow whispered the simple words to him.

Red eyes glanced over his shoulder, to the massive oaken doors, and to where his family were beginning to slip away from view, taking with them all manner of discussion and warm babble.

“I need to...” he began, the words trailing from him like smoke, and that faint smile somehow drifted to something distant. Almost longing for a moment, before fingers squeezed back, wringing him back to the present. Red eyes glanced back up at the brunet's, smile filtering back into place.

“I'll... be out shortly,” Clover told him, and fingers unthreaded from the huntsman's as he stepped away. Qrow watched him go for a moment, the fond note touching his smile before he turned from his place, walking towards the large doors of the office.

He walked out of the oppressive feel of the room, drawing the heavy oaken doors closed and letting them click delicately shut as the sigh trailed from him. He closed red eyes and turned, leaning heavily against the dark wood and letting his head fall back upon them with a thunk.

Dark brows furrowed. He  _ knew _ his hunch had been right on the money. He just  _ knew it _ , and still he hadn't said anything.

He resisted the urge to let the sigh fall from him again. For now, he had-

“Uncle Qrow!”

The almost distraught call of his name had him blinking eyes open once more, feeling something in his chest tighten at the tone. It was a response so automatic, still there from when they were so young, and the sound of that voice always-

His gaze fell upon Ruby, at the base of the stairs, staring up at him and looking for all the world like she was about to crumble entirely to the emotions that sat thin under the surface. Qrow's brow furrowed for a different reason entirely, and he was already walking towards her with purpose, his own dilemmas thrown to the wayside in the face of her entire expression.

The rest of the teams had stopped at the elevator and at the sharp call of his name, Yang's heart had seized a little at the tone of her sister's voice. Qrow placed his hands to his niece's shoulders, concern tracking through him.

“Kiddo, hey, what's-”

“I'm so sorry!”

The sudden outburst, sharp and simple, was enough to startle the huntsman lightly, if only for a handful of time. He felt it sigh from him, and the smile settled gently upon his expression. Ah. He really shouldn't have expected any other reaction from her, really.

She stared up at him, regret thick within silver eyes. His heart ached at the sight, and he knew that despite his own tangled feelings for the same situation, he'd much rather see her happier first than anything else.

“We... we kept talking about it after you left yesterday, and it- we couldn't- there was no other way we-” she cut herself off as her words tangled into heavy knots upon her tongue, and Qrow drew her gently into a firm embrace, letting his arms curl tightly about her.

She shuddered against him, refusing to let herself crumble entirely under the weight of it all, and squeezed her own arms firmly about him. The huntsman could only close his eyes, already feeling the warmth of her face against his chest, as his smile grew faintly.

“... I'm so sorry...” she repeated softly, muffled against his clothing.

Qrow drew one hand up from about her, letting it settle gently to the back of her hair as fingers stroked delicately. For a moment, he was back, caught in memories of skinned knees and training accidents, of mishaps gone awry. Of when they were all a little younger, and far more innocent to the ways of the world.

Of when hard decisions didn't need to be made.

Of when comfort was given in times of more than just grief.

“Ruby...”

Her name was spoken as gently as the hand that stroked through her hair, and with a shaky draw of breath, she pulled back enough to stare up at her uncle. The smile he wore was nearly enough to break her heart. There was  _ no way  _ he should be smiling in the face of such a decision.

“Leaving Atlas... it was always going to be inevitable,” he told her simply, with a faint shake of his head. “And, yeah, the break is kind of nice from all the running and fighting and sleeping out under the stars rubbish. Not to mention that I know for a  _ fact  _ neither of us are built for this kind of weather.” His words were punctuated with a faint laugh, and it was enough to wring the faint smile to the young woman's lips.

“But you're right about what you said in there.”

Her brow furrowed lightly, and she blinked up at him for a moment. Fingers drew away from her firm embrace, and she took a moment to rub at her eyes, to chase the sorrow away.

“What'd... I say?” she asked softly.

The huntsman let his hands settle on her shoulders, squeezing lightly. “We might have our own mission, sure. But more than that...” He trailed off, gathering the right words on his tongue, and smiling gently down at her. “We're huntsmen and huntresses. We protect Remnant and it's people, no matter what. And if all it takes is collecting a few shiny trinkets to save the world, well... that's a pretty feasible 'no matter what,'” he finished with a huff of a laugh.

Ruby could appreciate him trying to lighten the mood. She really could, but... Silver eyes trailed away from him, settling somewhere absently on his vest as she gave a faint shake of her head.

“But... but it'll still mean you and-”

“Hey...”

His gentle voice had her pressing her lips into a thin line, and she felt fingers tuck under her chin, getting her to face him once more.

“We can work out the details later. I still owe you lunch from the other day, right?” he told her with a wry note to his smile. “So how about we make it dinner, and we can hash it out then? No big plans on an empty stomach.”

At the elevator, Blake's ears perked as she caught the snatch of words, unheard by the rest of them. Amber eyes blinked a little, and she glanced intently back at the pair. The tone that he'd used... He was certainly trying to calm his niece, and it seemed to be working as he offered her further options and gentle words, but...

He didn't... sound regretful of her words to Ironwood at all.

He didn't sound like... they affected him in any noticeable way.

Blake turned her gaze away from them, a faint crease forming on her brow as she felt the thud of her heart in her chest. She knew what that tone of voice meant, and it was something she'd used herself in the past.

It was a voice that spoke of trying to be strong for others, when no matter what turmoil was brewing within your own life, a heavy decision had been weighed, and measured.

And had long since been made.

Blake drew her bottom lip between teeth, chewing faintly as she tried to ignore the hunch that sat in her stomach. Had Qrow... already made a choice about Ruby's announcement? Had he been thinking on it ever since their meeting the day before?

Or... gods, longer really, considering he and Clover were...

She felt her lips press into a faint line, and an ear flicked, wishing the elevator would come faster.

Far behind them, Qrow reached up to swipe a thumb across his niece's cheek, glad to at least see the return of that smile, no matter how faint. She swatted lightly at him, and he could only laugh gently at her.

“Really though, don't stress about it so much, kiddo,” he told her gently. “Or you'll end up going grey like me.”

Ruby could only give a huff of a laugh at his words, drawing back to place hands on her hips, levelling a challenging smirk at him. “Oh come on, you started going grey before I was  _ born _ .”

“Yeah barely. And then you  _ were _ born,” he jabbed back at her playfully, wringing her laughter to the surface once more.

“That is  _ such  _ a lie! I've seen photos of you and dad at Beacon, and you were grey back then!”

Qrow gave a thoughtful noise at that. “Good point; maybe knowing your _dad_ sent me grey in the first place,” he told her with a ruffle of her hair, and she could only swat up at him again, giggling at his words.

He smiled warmly at her, knowing he was maybe being a little bit of a sap about the whole situation. Maybe just a little. But gods if he wasn't allowed to be, then he really didn't know  _ what  _ he was allowed.

“Go on, get out of here,” he told her, giving a final playful swipe towards his niece. “You still have missions to get to, and people to rescue and all that, right? Go save the world, or whatever it is you kids do these days.” He laughed softly at his own words, knowing he was playing up the old man card maybe just a little.

Ruby could only return his laugh with one of her own, and she hesitated on her words for a moment. She knew there was nothing that could be said for the moment, and she reached forward to give him one final squeeze of a hug.

The huntsman resisted the urge to make a comment about his bones cracking under her strength, and he squeezed her back just as firm. Let her take what she needed before she drew back to smile up at him. And whilst there was an edge of her smile that seemed missing – marred, almost – she still couldn't help but beam up at him.

He swiped a thumb across her cheek, brief, and full of affection, and for a moment, it was all she needed to know that he still cared deeply for her, no matter what choices they all made.

“Talk later,” she told him simply.

“Talk later,” he repeated, and she darted away to catch up to her team.

Qrow watched her leave. Watched them all leave, really, and as the elevator doors silently closed, he finally felt the heavy breath sigh from him, allowing red eyes to lower to the floor.

Only then, did the edges of his smile fade.

He reached up, scrubbing fingertips through dark hair and already feeling drained. Alright then. He had a few hours to gather his words. To sort out exactly  _ how _ he was going to tell them all. Not a fun notion to let sit in his stomach for the rest of the day, but he'd already been holding onto it long enough, he realised. Fingertips slipped to the back of his neck, rubbing idly.

Just when he thought things were getting easier, he thought with a humourless smile.

“This is...”

The soft voice from behind him was stark in the empty hall, and he turned in mild startle to see Clover standing halfway down the stairs, eyes firmly fixed on the huntsman. Qrow felt his own eyes widen faintly, and he glanced away, feeling that buried note of guilt from the night before track through him like lightning.

The operative walked to him, and without hesitation, reached for a hand, threading fingers together so easily, his voice a bare whisper in the still air.

“Last night... this is what you meant.”

Qrow's brow furrowed faintly, shame coiling in his stomach. “This is... what I meant.”

There was a beat of stillness surrounding them.

“... you knew they'd suggest this?”

“A hunch. I... I had a hunch...” came the soft and immediate answer as shoulders and brow tightened. Red eyes still wouldn't meet the man's, and Clover felt something in his chest twist at that faintly humourless huff that followed. “And I was right.”

Fingers squeezed about the huntsman's, firm and grounding. “Qrow, you need to tell them.”

The words were softly insistent; gentle, and just enough to wring that faint smile back into existence.

“... tonight. I'm...” His eyes finally drifted back up to meet green, and he felt his throat tighten. “I'm meeting them for dinner tonight. I'll... tell them everything then.” He swallowed, feeling it almost catch, and gods above, but the thought of telling his family was about as terrifying as telling Clover. Probably moreso.

_ Definitely  _ moreso.

He watched as the operative's expression softened, and a note of tension filtered from him as he let out a quiet breath. Without a word, he pulled the huntsman to him, drawing him into his arms and holding him flush to warmth. Clover felt the way that form curled against him; how arms threaded tightly about his waist and fingers fisted into a uniform.

His own fingers threaded into dark hair, and he felt the first of that faint tremor as it trickled through the huntsman. Heard the way Qrow had to swallow again, and kept his breathing even upon the curve of a shoulder, and felt the way eyelashes blinked maybe a little too fast against skin.

But he refused to break over it.

Not yet.

Clover held him firm, letting him take what he needed from a tight embrace. Letting him drink deep from his grounding presence as fingers soothed circles under a dark cloak and through greying strands. Letting him know that no matter what, he would be there to guide him back and help him stand. So he hung on, letting himself be the purchase on solid ground the huntsman sorely needed.

Until he needed little else, Clover would be the one to hold him so tightly, and let him expend the grief he kept clutched so tightly within his chest.

He closed his eyes, finally feeling the way tension slowly began to trace from the huntsman's form. Felt it sigh out of him against the curve of his shoulder, and fingers began to loosen in white fabric. Just giving himself a moment to get his breath back, he knew, but the feeling would ache within his chest until Qrow was able to say what needed to be said.

A final sigh fell against his skin, and Clover nuzzled him gently as he came back up for air. The smile touched the huntsman's lips as he met green eyes, letting his forehead rest gently against his with a soft murmur of sound. Silently letting him know it was better. Not good, and not over, but just... better.

Fingers shifted in his hair, slipping down to gently brush along his cheek, and Qrow felt his smile hitch at it. Red eyes closed briefly as he relished in the delicate touch for a moment.

“Hey, uh...” he began softly, meeting that gaze as he swallowed lightly. He felt a thumb brush against skin, and for a moment, he was lost to those gentle eyes. He also knew he wanted little else in that moment but simple reassurance from him, and he brushed lips to the operative's. A simple, unhurried thing, delicately reciprocated, and he felt the weight of the world slide free from his shoulders at the soft touch.

He felt something in his chest loosen and for a beat of time, it was enough.

Enough to push his worries to the side and let his thoughts settle on something real for a measure of time. Something that would forever heal his weariness, and he parted from those lips a bare breadth, the trace of a sigh slipping from him, and taking with it the last thread of tension.

“So I... have a mission to get to...” he murmured against the man's smile, and he felt fingers trail down from his neck, dipping under a jacket to skirt his ribs and settle about a waist. Qrow felt his smile hitch at the lingering touch that didn't want to part from him just yet. Cheeky.

Even if it wasn't  _ entirely _ unwanted.

If anything, he was glad Clover could see it was entirely needed.

He reached up with his own hand, brushing a tender touch to the man's cheek as he finally made the decision to draw back from him and that needed contact. He had to, otherwise he  _ knew _ he would make the executive decision to stay firmly buried within those comforting arms for the rest of the day.

Not that it wouldn't be a wonderful prospect, he mused, still letting fingers thread together as he stepped away from his warmth.

Clover allowed the huntsman to step away from him, letting fingers be their only anchor to one another, and for a moment, he was caught, watching those red eyes. He knew there was nothing hidden within them, no further words that clung to him like a shadow, no more words that could be shared in the comfort of secrecy. But he couldn't help but feel the rest of the day would simply eat away at the huntsman's thoughts. He gave a gentle squeeze to ring adorned fingers, and without a breath of warning, lifted them to his lips to brush a gentle kiss to knuckles.

“Let me know how it all goes,” he told him softly against skin, and he watched with delicate amusement the way those eyes widened faintly, and a soft trace of colour appeared upon cheeks.

Qrow couldn't help but smile at him in simple adoration, and he felt something in his chest tighten for another reason entirely. Something more warm and incredibly welcome, and he returned the gentle squeeze of fingers.

“... I will, promise,” he breathed, and he stepped back from the brunet, letting fingers finally slip apart as he smiled warmly at him. He turned from him and tucked hands deep into pockets as he headed for the elevator, feeling... moderately better for himself than he had a few minutes ago.

All things considered... the meeting had gone about as well as he could've hoped, particularly with what had been discussed, and he was almost downright proud of the way he hadn't come apart completely for everyone else to see. The faint huff fell from him as he reached up to press the button for the elevator, and was rewarded with a soft chime as it opened up before him, stepping inside and glancing at the panel within.

Small miracles, then.

“Qrow!”

The call of his name had him glancing up to where he'd left the operative; hand caught above buttons. Green eyes met his and for a handful of time, silence stretched between them. Dark brows knit faintly as he saw fingers curl lightly upon themselves in a simple brush at his side; something he'd often seen when the man was caught in deep thought, and he paused at the sight. Waited for his reasoning. Waited for the words that had become tangled upon the man's tongue.

There was hesitation in those parted lips. A flicker of it, there and gone again as Clover settled for smiling warmly once more, waving at him.

“Good luck on your mission!”

Brows rose as the irony of his words weren't lost to him, and it was enough to wring his laughter to the surface, bright and immediate. Of  _ all _ the things he could've said... He waved him off, wry smile upon his lips as his mirth tapered off.

“Got plenty of  _ that  _ in my life!” he called back, and Clover could only return the laugh as the elevator doors finally closed, taking his view of the huntsman with it.

The smile remained on the operative's expression as he was left standing there, watching the space his partner once filled. Fingers curled at his side, and the sigh filtered from him, taking with it the last of the tension that once settled within his stomach.

Qrow... only had a hunch about the meeting.

The phrase kept rolling about in his mind, and he felt his smile begin to fade. Of course the man would know the intricate workings of his family's thoughts. How couldn't he? Even  _ Winter _ had apparently caught on to the meaning of their words before the brunet did.

His brow furrowed, and he lowered his gaze to the floor, caught staring far beyond mere grey floor tiles. At his side, fingers moved languidly, and the pad of his thumb trailed methodical circles across fingertips. No, Qrow had seen the options before him, well before any others; had seen the board and how the pieces would fall.

Clover felt his eyes narrow, lips pressing into a thin line of unease. He'd seen it coming, and had long since wrestled and weighed his options until he knew what his own answer and those of the people around him would be.

The murmur of a sound touched his lips, still feeling the warmth from where fingers had tangled within his own. He knew Qrow would be able to handle himself with his family, but it was  _ their _ reaction to his decision that concerned him the most.

It... was going to absolutely shatter their hearts.

Green eyes closed, and he curled fingers into a loose fist, keeping that warmth trapped within skin.

The sigh fell from him, and shoulders slackened with the action. He could mull about the possibilities of answers later, and he let his hand fish for a scroll within a pocket. He stared at it absently, fingers hovering above the glass, stuck for a moment.

In what felt like a heavy eternity, only a beat of time had passed, and he pressed lips into a thin line, worry sinking into his bones for the rest of his found family. How  _ could  _ they-

His brow furrowed lightly with a trace of a sigh, already feeling weary from it all. And yet Qrow had been carrying this for  _ days  _ now; maybe even weeks. How he found the strength to push through and remain so quietly composed through it all was an utter testament to the huntsman.

Clover stared over his shoulder, to broad oaken doors, fingers curling about his scroll with a faint creak of gloves as hesitation touched him once more.

No.

He could think about it all later.

He had his own mission to attend to.


	34. Meals and Mendings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'd give it all away  
> Just to have somewhere to go to  
> Give it all away  
> To have someone to come home to
> 
> ~ My December by Linkin Park

Snow continued to fall throughout the day, remnants of the previous nights' blizzard that trailed across the land like the fringe of a scarf. Nothing quite as thick as the dump of white that still lay heavy upon the ground, but enough to cling to hair and clothes and keep the constant chill within the night air. The soft light of the moon glimmered through the cloud haze, washing the streets in a gentle fog that seeped into skin and bone.

Enough to wring the shiver from those still used to a milder climate.

Yang felt the cold run through her, and she hugged her arms tighter about herself as they walked through the Atlas streets. At her side, there was a soft breath of a laugh. With a wry smile already playing on her lips, she turned to the Faunus, bumping her lightly with a shoulder.

“And just what's so funny, hm?” came the easy taunt.

Blake could only glance up at her, matching that smile. “You're as bad as the rest of your family when it comes to cold weather.” The blonde gave a light snort at that, choosing  _ not  _ to roll her eyes.

“Well duh, where did we all grow up?” she countered easily. A thought struck her, and she furrowed her brow at the young woman. “And what right do  _ you  _ have to razz me about it? Didn't you grow up on a tropical island? Shouldn't  _ you  _ be the one freezing here?” Blake could only laugh at her, letting an arm slip about her girlfriend's waist, keeping her close in the chill night air.

“What can I say, I think I'm built for this kind of climate. Snow and the cold... never seem to worry me all that much,” she answered simply.

“Ugh, jealous...” Yang murmured, letting herself be pulled against that warmth.

“You and me both, firecracker,” her uncle's voice came from behind her. Violet eyes glanced over a shoulder as he drew in alongside them, and she smirked at him; something all cheek.

“Aw, missing your space heater for the night?” she taunted, earning her a knowing smile.

Qrow snatched a hand out of his pocket to swipe at a blonde head playfully, and she laughed brightly at him, returning it with a swat of her own that he artfully dodged. The gentle laugh fell from him as they rounded the corner, and red eyes took sight of a little sign proclaiming their destination; pointing down a little alleyway that he already knew so well.

A place his whole family knew about now, and he was downright glad it had become such a special place to them all.

He kept the wistful smile hidden away as red eyes flicked away from the little sign. It seemed almost fitting that a place so well-worn and comfortable would be where he told them all.

He reached up as they neared the door, sliding it open and stepping into the delicious warmth and even more delectable smells of the noodle shop that had become a fast favourite of his. Red eyes closed briefly as he took in a deep breath, just savouring it as his family filed into the warmth of the building behind him.

“Oh Qrow, hi!”

A young waitress waved to him from behind the counter, bringing Qrow back to the world around him, and he smiled at her, returning the simple wave.

“Wow, you  _ really _ brought the whole family tonight,” she remarked as she lead them all to one of the private rooms at the back. The huntsman gave a huff of amusement, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“What can I say... they've taken a shine to the place. Your dad's one hell of a cook,” he told her honestly, and she laughed him off.

“I wouldn't tell him that; it'll go to his head.” She paused as the group began to file about them with all manner of excited noise, chairs scraping and conversations already flaring about them. “Clover's on duty tonight, huh?”

He paused a little at the sudden statement, but laughed it off all the same. “Poor guy's stuck wandering around in the snow while we get to stay toasty warm and well fed,” he told her. “Don't suppose we can get one of his usuals to go when we're done here?”

“I think we can arrange that,” she replied easily, already making a note of it on her order pad. She gave him a final wave as she took everyone's drink orders and walked away, letting their little gathering get settled as choices were debated, and all manner of enthusiastic chatter swelled up about the table.

He smiled to himself as he watched them all, hands resting gently on the back of a chair at the head of the table. After so many months of travelling with them and getting used to all their noise and over the top shenanigans and boundless laughter, he knew that it was eventually going to come to an end.

He just... never thought it would be here, of all places.

He never thought it would be so soon.

Red eyes glanced down to the tablecloth, lost for a moment as he couldn't help the melancholy that plucked at his smile.

Gods, but he already felt exhausted.

“Uncle Qrow?”

The call of a voice from his eldest niece dragged him back to the room, and he drew his gaze up once more, blinking as he came back up for air. Right, he was... The smile warmed upon his expression once more as he pulled his chair out, sliding into it with a sigh.

“You look tired,” Oscar pointed out, soft but blunt. “Are you... sure you want to be out with us tonight?”

The huntsman gave a humourless huff at that, rolling his shoulder a little. “Hey, you try fighting a nest of Teryxes on your own, and tell me how you feel at the end of the day.” The boy held up his hands in defence, smile easy on his expression.

“No thanks, I'll stick to the Sabyrs.”

Further along the table, amber eyes narrowed faintly, and Blake felt the words of the menu disappear to her for a moment, unable to help but focus on what he was saying. She knew, as well as the rest of them, what they were  _ really  _ all doing here tonight, and yet she was probably the only one that had discerned some scrap of meaning to what was going to be discussed.

She had her own hunch about what he would tell them all, and it nestled in her chest like a slumbering shadow, not quite ready to see the light of day.

So she drew her bottom lip gently between teeth, and returned her focus to the words before her.

“Ooh, there's an  _ extra  _ spicy one here now!” Yang exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. Nora snorted at her in mild disgust.

“I don't know  _ how _ you guys can stomach that kinda stuff. Don't you have  _ any  _ taste buds left?”

The blonde grinned back at her, sitting back smugly. “Course we do! It's all in the genetics, and our family just happened to win  _ that  _ particular lottery.”

Qrow gave a short laugh as he leant forward, chin resting on an upturned palm. “Hate to tell you, but she's right,” he explained languidly. “Runs on  _ both  _ sides of the family, too, so you're just plain outnumbered here.”

“Ah, don't worry Nora,” Jaune began almost timidly. “I'm with you. Spicy's... just not my style.”

“So long as it enhances the flavour of the food, I don't mind it,” Ren piped up, trailing a finger down the menu. Oscar perked at that, and he turned back to his own menu.

“Same here. Though I'm... kind of okay with a little bit here and there,” he admitted simply.

“Don't worry, we'll toughen you up in no time!” Ruby told him, pumping her fist in the air triumphantly.

Weiss gave a snort from next to Blake, almost rolling her eyes. “ _ Please _ don't try and force feed him anything that's  _ actually  _ going to murder his sense of taste for weeks.” Ruby waved her off dismissively.

“Of course I wouldn't! I'm not  _ that _ mean, you know.” There was a gentle smile at her words as blue eyes returned to a menu.

“Ruby, I don't think you have a mean bone in your body,” she told her softly. “But, since we're discussing it, I actually like spicy food quite a lot, so that new one sounds wonderful.” There was a clatter of silence about the room, and Weiss glanced up at the stunned reaction from the rest of her team, blinking at them.

“What?”

Yang narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “How long has  _ that _ been going on for? And you never  _ told us?” _

The young woman could only shrug lightly, smile playing on her lips. “It's a Solitas thing, I suppose. Most people here, regardless of if they're from Mantle or Atlas, prefer some kind of heat.” Jaune gave a faint laugh at that.

“It's... also an Argus thing, too,” he offered easily. “Saph makes the most  _ amazing _ chilli crab, even though I... can't really stomach it..”

Qrow had to laugh softly at their words, closing his own menu. He could certainly to agree with  _ that _ point; live in the ice and snow long enough, and you craved anything that would give you a scrap of warmth. What better way than with food?

And it gave him gentle pause as he trailed a finger lazily about the edge of a menu. Well... he knew of a few other ways, and he couldn't keep the wry note from the corner of his lips.

He sat back in his chair, red eyes following them as the chatter sparked up once more, and he found that he couldn't keep the warm smile from his expression. One hand curled upon the table as the debate about food flared once more, and his thoughts were interrupted with the arrival of tea and drinks.

Just like with all their family affairs, there was no shortage of noise nor commotion, laughter nor merriment. It was simply time spent together, in the warm company of one another. Just as it always had been.

Just as it always would be.

It was little wonder that the notion of sharing food together was one that brought boundless excitement to each of them. For simple pleasures in sharing meals alongside one another had been a part of their lives for as long as each of them could remember; traditions that had started long before Beacon for some of them.

Qrow could only smile to himself as he nursed his cup, relishing in the warmth that surrounded them all. He also knew it was moot to try and mull on the very reason they'd all gathered together when the topic hadn't even been broached yet. As much as he dreaded it, he knew he still had to cross that bridge at some point during the night.

Ruby knew it, too, and yet all she had done so far was move on with her night. She'd enjoyed the company of her friends and family, lost herself to stories and playful banter, and was honest to gods  _ laughing _ so bright that her cheeks were sore.

For a flicker of time, he saw Summer within her daughter once more.

Always shining, always pressing on, no matter what. Always with a smile upon her face and a warmth within her heart.

The huntsman had learnt a lot from both of them, and even now, Ruby was gently reminding him that such things could simply be placed aside. That not all things should cling to him like a shadow in the noonday sun.

Red eyes flicked to the table, and fingertips traced a languid circle upon a tablecloth.

_Sometimes things just happen. You need to stop trying to carry it on your own._

He almost laughed at the echo of her words. Even if the scenario of her chiding had been a little different, he still realised the merit in what she'd said to him. It was something he knew would take another lifetime to try and work through, but he had more than enough helping hands and patient saints surrounding him along the way.

Something... he'd always had, and always would have, no matter the time or distance between them all.

He glanced up at his nieces, expression warming as he watched them. It wasn't as if he'd simply forgotten about Tai, either, and the two girls were a not-so-subtle reminder of the man in everything they did. Maybe a little more crazy or daring in their ways, but it wasn't as if the rest of his team hadn't gotten up to some shenanigans in their day.

He still missed the dweeb, but it wasn't as if he was gone from his life forever.

Qrow  _ did _ laugh gently to himself, and he leant forwards once more, arms folding loosely on the table.

He'd always carry reminders of the people closest to him, no matter what.

It was something he was immensely good at.

As Yang finished telling a story, a bright burst of laughter from Nora tore through the room, and he couldn't help but join in, letting the sound mingle together. The redhead leant over and elbowed him gently, adding a snide remark to the blonde's story, and Qrow couldn't help but snort sharply, losing himself to bright laughter once more.

Yang caught the tail end of her words, and the utter fluster that tore through her was enough to send both Nora and Blake straight back into a sharp bout of laughter.

And it was enough.

As orders were finally taken, and laughter continued well into the evening, Qrow knew that he wasn't losing a single thing. He was simply adding more memories to an already long catalogue of others.

He almost forgot about his tea at times, and when he remembered, it was usually to his detriment, as there would always be a poorly placed comment, or whipsharp remark, or a bright line to a story that threatened to make him inhale it instead.

Honestly, he never learned, and he poured himself another cup.

There was a sharp gasp from his youngest niece, and he damn near fumbled the teapot in his hands; red eyes darted up to her, finding her utterly enamoured by the appearance of the waiters with their first round of food. He could only deflate a little with a sigh, setting his nerves to the side as bowl after steaming bowl was placed before them.

The centre of the table was soon lined with all manner of richly scented, steaming and sizzling delights, making stomachs groan at the chance to sample them all. With as much food had been brought to them, it almost turned into a competition amongst some of them to see who could try the most variety.

Qrow very nearly wanted to try his luck himself considering it all looked so good.

Yang could only widen her eyes at the bowl that had been placed before her, and she took a moment to breathe in deeply and appreciate it fully, letting the rich scent of spice and broth and heat smother everything else. She gave a deep groan at how gorgeous it already tasted, and she hadn't even taken a bite.

At her side, Ruby could only give a quiet noise of surprise, chopsticks firmly stuffed between her lips as she perked up. Silver eyes widened as she realised it  _ did _ taste as good as it smelled, and soon enough she was shovelling away mouthful after spicy mouthful as fast as she could. Qrow could only grin at her, delicately plucking at his own bowl of noodles.

“Hey, careful you don't choke. That'd be a waste of good food,” he told her, finally taking a mouthful of his own. It took a moment to process, and dark brows went upwards as the flavour hit his tongue. It  _ was _ extra spicy, just as promised, and as he went back in for another helping, only found the heat flooding through the rest of his mouth in a delicious rush of spice.

He might've just found a new favourite to introduce to someone else, too.

For a few brief snatches of time, the only sound to come from their table was that of food being devoured, and handfuls of excited words falling here and there between them all. Conversation seemed a little sparse at the best of time, and it was only as food began to dwindle, and one by one they all seemed to sit back in their seats with satisfied groans, that each of them returned to idle chatter.

Qrow was thoroughly content, as he placed chopsticks across an empty bowl and pushed it away a little. He felt like he'd just eaten for a week straight, as spice still tingled in his mouth; something that warmed him down to his core. It left him feeling wonderfully languid and pliable. Possibly for the best, considering where he knew the conversation would turn.

He leant forward, letting his chin rest on an upturned palm, and allowing himself to simply sit for a moment, rewarding his stomach with stillness. Gods above, but he could  _ really _ understand why Clover would treat himself here so often as a cadet – and longer, given how often he frequented the place.

Hell, it was fast becoming one of  _ his _ favourite places for sure, and the contented sigh fell heavily from him as red eyes closed.

His moment of peace was short-lived, and there was a heavy flop of something against his shoulder. He turned his head a little, glancing down at his youngest niece that had plonked her shoulder firmly against him, letting her head follow suit, and it wrought the thinly amused smirk from him.

“What're you angling for?” he asked after a moment of silver eyes staring up at him.

She allowed the amused sound to slip from her at his quip, tilting her head a little to watch the rest of their little family. She paused, knowing that there was purpose in their gathering, and silver eyes flicked lightly to the table.

“You know... I'm gonna miss this place...” she murmured a little distantly. She realised the tack of her words, and she drew back from his arm, meeting his gaze as she sat up properly again. “I mean... well...  _ this _ place, sure; this is only the best food I've ever had in my  _ life _ right here,” she added with a faint laugh, collecting fingers about her cup.

Silver eyes were lost to its surface for a moment, and the wistful smile touched her.

“But... I never expected I'd be so fond of...  _ this _ place,” she corrected herself gently. Qrow saw gently where her words were leading them both, and he sat back in his chair with his own cup. He allowed the warmth to tint his expression as he mulled over its edges, breathing in the delicate scent for a time.

“Atlas sure is something else,” he agreed softly.

The words could only pull at something deep within the young woman's chest, and fingers tightened a little about a cup.

She knew that there was a gentle resignation in his words, and it hurt to think that  _ she _ was the cause of it. The sigh slipped from her with a heaviness that seemed too vast for the space it occupied, and Qrow could only reach over, fingers gently settling across her wrist and returning her gently to the room.

When she glanced up at him, she saw no hint of disappointment nor torment. No sign of hesitation nor doubt. There was only the gentle warmth of his smile, and the fond squeeze of his fingers.

“Ruby... You need to stop trying to carry it on your own,” he told her simply.

The soft murmur of words could only cause silver eyes to widen slightly with a glimmer of recognition, and she ducked her gaze down to where he held her gently, brows furrowing.

“But... with what I said today... you and Uncle Clover...”

Qrow was already moving, lifting his hand from her wrist to place atop her shoulder, bringing those eyes back to him. He held her gaze firmly, letting the smile settle throughout his expression.

“One of these days, you're gonna say that to his face for real, and he won't know  _ which  _ way to look,” he told her with a laugh. The young woman could only delicately reciprocate the sound, and it broke free from her like the gentle peal of a bell.

“I hope so,” she replied softly. “Because he  _ deserves _ to hear it for real.”

“Yeah, and I wanna be there to watch,” Yang piped up from next to her sister. The flush of colour upon the young woman's cheeks was immediate, and Qrow could only laugh at the pair of them; his eldest niece had a  _ very  _ good point. If he wasn't there to see it, he was going to be sorely disappointed, considering how red he went the  _ first  _ time around.

Yang's words still couldn't stop the immediate reaction from Ruby to groan and take an embarrassed swipe at her sister, and it soon turned into another squabbling session of swats and playful jabs.

Well... it was as good a place as any to start, and he gently slipped fingers about his cup. He let his girls have their moment of merriment as he took in the rest of them, bright and laughing. Cheerful. Just as their family should always be, and the wistful smile clung to him as he stared down at steam wafting from a cup.

“You know, there's... something I need to ask.”

The words left him before he had a chance to hesitate and snatch them back, and he kept his gaze firmly upon his tea. Their effect was immediate, and he saw the motion of his two nieces still; focus now firmly fixed upon him. Dark brows furrowed, and from the edges of his sight, he saw the same stillness fall upon the rest of table.

They all knew why they were here.

They all felt the delicate shift in his words.

“I...”

His throat suddenly felt dry, and for a fleeting glimmer of time, he almost entertained the thought of escaping. Of fleeing from the way the stillness left his stomach squirming, and he sighed in a long, slow breath. There'd be no point in it though, as much as he wanted to; his family would chase down the truth from him eventually.

They were good at that, he knew.

Violet eyes skirted over his features, noticing the depth of his hesitation, and Yang felt the way Blake's fingers curled lightly at the blonde's thigh. It was enough to draw a heavy pause of realisation to her, and her brow furrowed.

“Uncle Qrow?” the blonde ventured gently, hoping to rouse him from whatever had stolen his thoughts like that. Those red eyes finally lifted, meeting hers, and allowing the ache behind them to soften as he lingered upon her.

His fierce spitfire of a niece, who would just as soon arm wrestle him than squeeze the life from him in a fierce hug. He turned his gaze back to Ruby, so full of promise and hope for the future, and he knew that she was becoming something vastly more special than those eyes of hers.

The huntsman let his gaze drift to the rest of their team, and to the girls that had become as close as family to them all. Weiss and Blake, no matter the weight of all their heartaches, were still amongst the first to always offer a smile and a helping hand to those in need. He glanced to the others. To the team once fractured, now healing and strengthened by their bonds, and in turn, were simply another side to their vast and growing family.

Red eyes found Oscar, and his heart ached for a different reason. For losing him in a way that no one should ever have to go.

Yet all he could do was smile so warmly at each of them.

“You're all... growing up so fast...” he heard himself say, and he drew his gaze back to his tea. “And it feels like I've missed a lot... missed most of it, thanks to the way I was, but...” Fingers tightened about his cup, and distantly he prayed that his luck would hold out as long as his nerve.

“Selfish as it is to say, I just... don't want to miss any more.”

There was a silence that blanketed the table, and as glances were exchanged in the sudden heavy turn of his words, there was a shift at the far end of the table. Orange gloves curled upon a tablecloth as Oscar leant forward, searching those downcast eyes.

“Uncle Qrow, you won't...”

The surprise that ran through the huntsman was deep as he drew blinking red eyes up to the young man. Had he... heard that right? Had Oscar-

Yet no matter how many times it rapidly danced through his mind, he heard it, clear as the blue sky on a summer's day.

It brought the blossom of warmth to his chest, and he felt something within him fray, allowing something in his smile to settle. To separate itself from that wistful sadness that sought to cling to him the more he spoke. He hadn't thought that their time together had been long enough for him to impact his life like that. He didn't... think he meant that much to the boy.

Hell, after their initial meeting, it was a wonder the kid trusted him  _ at all _ . Yet... he must've been doing something right. With such a simple breath of a statement from him, he must've-

“What... did you...”

The words slipped from him before he could even think about snatching them back, and red eyes could only stare back at the boy, everything else washed from his sight. Oscar only felt his shoulders bunch a little at the sudden sharp attention he was being given, and the faint sound squeaked from him. He hadn't  _ really _ meant to derail the conversation, but, well...

“Oh, I just- um...” He seemed to snap himself out of his surprise a little, and he cleared his throat softly, fingers lacing before him on the table as light colour gathered at his cheeks; hazel eyes firmly focused on them as he allowed the faint smile to paint across his expression. “Well... ever since I left to start this crazy journey with all of you, I... I've missed... home, too... I guess.”

His fingers tightened a little, gloves creaking softly as the explanation hurriedly tumbled from him. “But... I've seen how you are with everyone here... how you support and care for all of them... and despite  _ everything,  _ you... you showed no hesitation in sharing the same kind of thing with me.”

Those hazel eyes met his, and Qrow felt his chest tighten in a way that he hadn't been expecting. He swallowed through a tight throat, and Oscar could only smile so gently at him.

“So... I know what it's like to want to be selfish and say you don't want to miss it anymore,” he continued, even as he finally lost his nerve to keep his eyes on the huntsman, and dropped his gaze back to his hands, colour firmly across his cheeks. “And... if you don't mind it, I... I kind of... well-”

“Not at all...” Qrow breathed, almost lost in the distance between them. Gods above, but he'd had...  _ no idea  _ in the slightest he meant that much to him. That he'd been giving him something he sorely missed. From next to the young man, Jaune gave a soft laugh, and he threaded his own arm about Oscar's shoulders, pulling him closer and beaming down at him.

Even if some of them still hadn't said the words out loud, they all felt the same way about the huntsman. He'd given them  _ all _ something that was sorely missing from their lives, and it would always help tie them together, regardless of how far apart they strayed from one another.

In wrenching hindsight, it only twisted that tightness in his chest of what he knew he had to tell them all, but he refused to let it dampen the warmth that tinted his expression.

He felt the gentleness of fingers at his wrist, and he glanced back at Ruby, returning the simple gesture from moments earlier.

“And no matter what, you're here with us, right now,” she followed on from Oscar's earlier words.

Something within his chest caught at how tender her words sounded to his ears, and he let the huff of ironic amusement slip from him. Qrow ducked his gaze back to his tea, and let ring adorned fingers cover that hand so small and delicate, squeezing lightly.

At his other side, he felt a gentle touch as Nora sat a little closer, letting a hand rest at his shoulder.

“Whatever happens to us all, nothing will ever take you away from here, you know?” She placed her free hand to her chest, and her smile very nearly broke his heart in two.

He returned the warmth in that smile as best as he was able, but it was hard when he felt heat burning behind his eyes already, and he he blinked it away for a moment, squeezing them shut. It was only for a few seconds, but it was enough, and he drew in a steadying breath, skirting his gaze across them all again.

Gods above, but he must look and sound like a mess already, his mind laughed.

It was all the thought he needed to let the softly ironic huff of amusement leave him. He hadn't even  _ broached _ the actual topic yet, and already there were soft words and gentle touches from his family to help ground him. To help keep him on track and let him say what needed to be said.

Yet...

They knew.

In a dawning breath of realisation, Qrow suddenly knew that some of them already had an idea about what he'd say, even if the words hadn't been ushered into life; their response  _ had  _ already come in soft words and gentle touches, and he felt something in his chest loosen at it. It helped his own thoughts shake free, and buried deep within his heart, all he could do was be so utterly thankful for them.

“This... is a lot harder than I thought it'd be...” he murmured aloud, and he felt the way his heart echoed in his ears.

Past his eldest niece, Blake couldn't stop the widening of her eyes in soft recognition, knowing where the tack of his words had gone. She let her free hand settle at her stomach, fingers curling lightly as she drew in a short breath.

“You've... really decided to...” she murmured without thought. Those red eyes met hers, and in sharp realisation knew that she'd been heard, her ears perked first in surprise, then swiftly flattened out as she knew what it was she saw in his eyes.

She saw the truth, and she saw how it was slowly eating him alive.

But rather than allow the sadness of his decision to weigh heavily on himself, he was grieving only for those around him. About what it would mean to tell them all.

It was...

Qrow let his gaze flick briefly up to her ears, and at their delicate journey, dawning realisation touched him. Clearly she'd heard more than Ruby's heartfelt call of his name earlier that day, and he could only smile softly back at her.

An insignificant little expression.

Unassuming, and faint.

“Yeah...”

The breath of a word, letting eyes flit away for a moment, lingering upon a tablecloth before returning once more.

“I have.”

He leant back a little, sitting a little straighter as he glanced about his family; all manner of worry and concern crossing each of their expressions. He was dragging it out and beating around the bush as the words tangled upon his tongue, he knew, and he swallowed through a dry throat.

The huntsman took in a deeper breath, holding it for a moment before letting it sigh from him, and wetting his lips lightly.

“When... we all leave Atlas... I...”

His heart thudded in his ears like a war drum, echoing through his skull.

“It's just... going to be you guys.”

His stomach knotted more than a spider's web, dashed about in a storm.

“It won't be a... a 'we,' anymore... I...” Red eyes drifted to the tablecloth and his own words sounded strange to his ears. “I've... decided to stay here.”

For the longest stretch of time, the only sound to echo about them was that of the world outside. Snatches of distant laughter and conversation, the clatter of crockery and the calling of orders; it all seemed strangely muted and distant in the wake of his words.

Even as he heard the soft draw of breath from those not expecting the news, it wasn't enough to shatter the blanket of silence that had doused them all like a thick drift of snow.

He heard little else in that silence but the ring of static in his ears. He'd had so many chances, so many opportunities to talk to them that half a dozen automatically came to mind.

He'd had...

He swallowed feeling it finally tremor in his shoulders.

He'd had  _ so much  _ time and he'd told them all in the  _ worst  _ way possible.

He only distantly caught the sound of a chair scraping, as numb as he suddenly was to everything. But when there were arms threading about his neck and shoulders so firmly, pulling him tight and close to warmth, it startled him back to the waking world. Like taking a gasp of a breath as his head broke above the waves, and red eyes caught only the briefest glance of both his nieces still sitting-

“You say this like you wouldn't have followed your heart anyway...”

The words, so soft and broken against his hair, and red eyes widened as Blake could only hug him tighter, trembling against him. He was utterly surprised at the reaction, and it took him a moment to stir himself into vague action. Something twisted within his chest and the smile split across his lips as he moved in her arms; pushing his chair back to stand properly and return the tight embrace, feeling heat burn at the corners of his eyes.

Gods above, how could he even  _ respond  _ to that?

He had little time to wonder, as there was soon another pair of arms encircling him from next to Blake, and his elbow was pressed up against a flourish of red hair as Nora squeezed him tightly. He couldn't stop the way the huff of amused sound slipped from him, and he withdrew an arm to wrap firmly about her as well.

“And it's  _ totally  _ obvious you're head over heels for the guy,” she told him succinctly, wringing the further pull of that laugh from him.

Yet it felt strange.

More than sadness at his confession, there seemed to be a gentle acceptance. As if they'd seen all the pieces in play, and simply lined them all up upon the board. Of everyone, he was the only one who  _ hadn't _ been able to see the bigger picture beyond his own dilemma.

In hindsight it was silly of him, and now he saw it clearly.

His family saw and understood more than anyone would ever give them credit – himself included. Maria had been right all along; and he was just as guilty as every other adult in their lives when it came to not properly giving them their dues.

Red eyes blinked maybe a little too quickly and he swallowed once more, glancing up at the rest of them as they began to move, gathering around the three of them to join in the affectionate pile. Arms threaded about him tightly from all sides, keeping him firmly in place as he glanced down at each of them in turn, seeing nothing but proud and affectionate smiles, a little hindered by tears, but warm all the same.

“You're not... upset?” he heard himself say, and the words immediately sounded childish to his ears.

“Course we are, you dolt,” Weiss replied, tears shimmering in light blue eyes. “But this is something you've decided for  _ you,  _ and we're not about to get in the way of that.” At her words there were sounds of gentle amusement and soft agreement, and Jaune met his gaze with the warmest smile he'd ever seen the young man wear.

“It's like Nora said,” he began gently, trying his hardest not to let his voice waver. “You're  _ always  _ going to be in our hearts. Everything you've done for us –  _ all  _ of us – it's been incredible. And it's... it's not goodbye. Not really.”

“It better not be,” Oscar seconded his words with a gentle laugh.

And it was enough for him.

But despite it all – all the laughing tears and soft acceptance – one occupant of their family still remained seated at the table. Silver eyes seemed lost to the clutter upon a tablecloth, and the world about Ruby seemed to dwindle into nothingness in light of the news.

She'd had an idea. It was a silly notion her heart had clung to. Surely he wouldn't ever...

Surely their uncle wouldn't...

He was always the one watching over them, no matter the distance between them. He'd always looked out for them when they journeyed together. He'd always been there. He'd always-

Fingers curled in her lap and he breath caught in her chest.

He'd always...

A hand fell to her shoulder, dragging her back to the world and she drew the breath back into her lungs. Her gaze darted to the side, where her uncle knelt next to her, red eyes meeting her own as the words caught on her tongue, and unshed tears lay unsteady within silver.

“Ruby, I-”

“Don't you dare say you're sorry.”

The force of her quick words startled him lightly, and he blinked back at her for a moment before the gentle laughter fell from him.

“I wouldn't,” he told her simply, still wearing that warm smile. “Because there's nothing to apologise for.”

There was a beat of time, and his words had their desired effect as he felt shoulders bunch lightly under his hand. Silver eyes widened faintly and stared owlishly back at him. The sigh fell from him, a short exhale as the warmth of his smile touched the entirety of his expression.

“I... love him, and I don't... want anything taking it away from me this time,” he told her, as simple as that. And it brought him to a gentle pause. Not so much the realisation of his words; he'd long since accepted them as truth and embraced them deep within his heart. No, he felt the strength of them.

He knew Ruby understood their strength too, and he carefully brushed away one of those tears that slipped free.

“And at the same time, I love you. And your sister. And the  _ rest _ of our crazy little family,” he added with a laugh and a brief roll of his eyes. “But... even if I  _ want _ to be there to protect you and help you out, no matter what... I also kinda know... I... don't really need to anymore.”

He lifted a hand from her shoulder, fingers plonking onto darker hair and giving a gentle stroke as red eyes followed the action.

“You're strong, kiddo. All of you are,” he glanced briefly over a shoulder to where the others stood together. “And I'm not-”

Whatever words he had to say were suddenly cut off, as a sudden warm bundle of niece threw herself into him, arms squeezing tight about him, and face buried firmly in his chest.

There was a muffle of sound against his vest, and he delicately drew arms about her, returning the embrace gently as something sharp splintered deep within his chest. Red eyes closed and he knew he was breaking her heart.

He knew he'd shattered her, and there was no coming back from it.

He  _ knew _ it would happen this way, and he cursed at his stupid inability to-

“Uncle Qrow, that's enough.”

The same snatch of words against clothing, now freed and firm as she shook her head against the curve of his neck.

“You're talking about this like it's the end of our journey,” the girl began, “but it's not! Not really!” Ruby drew back, silver eyes glistening, but the smile that sat upon her expression almost wanted to eclipse everything else upon her expression. She shook her head at him, and she almost managed to laugh at him; a short huff of sound.

“Yang and I... we both miss dad so much every single day,” she began. “And if we wanted to, we could easily give up on all this world saving nonsense to go home and just  _ be  _ with him. Just be a family and go to school and live our lives like normal people. But...”

The sigh threaded from her and she shook her head lightly, beaming up at him. “We're huntsmen and huntresses. And we made a choice long ago to protect the people of Remnant no matter what. People who want nothing more than that same normal life, free from fear or pain.” She paused for a moment. “People who want nothing else than to be with someone they love.”

Her words struck through his chest, and red eyes widened faintly at them as his breath caught suddenly. Once more, the depth of her understanding of the world around her ran straight to his core and took to it with an eloquent strike. And he had to remind himself that once more, she was no longer a child. None of them were.

They'd all seen enough hardships and heartache, and it was enough to temper their wills into something far stronger than steel.

It was enough to show them what truly mattered in the world.

And they all knew what was truly worth protecting.

Those red eyes blinked maybe a little too fast as they drifted away, wondering idly when she'd grown up so  _ fast _ . He was wrong, he realised gently. Bitterly wrong, and he couldn't be more happy about the fact.

There was no protecting them anymore. There was never any real protecting them to begin with.

“And I mean...” she continued, rolling gently across his thoughts with a faint breath of a laugh. “Yeah, it hurts. It'll... hurt for a while, and we're all gonna miss you like crazy. We've travelled together so long now, and you've always been there for us, but... you deserve a chance to be happy.  _ Truly  _ happy.”

She drew herself forwards once more, wrapping her arms tightly about him and squeezing him firmly until he did the same.

“And you're not gonna stop being our uncle just because of a bit of distance, and neither is Uncle Clover.”

And it was enough for him.

Red eyes closed tightly as the sigh shuddered heavily from him, and he felt the first of his tears slip free. He was a fool.

Gods, but he was a fool...

To think that whatever choice he made was going to be little else than something that would hurt his family. To not realise that whatever decision he came to, he would forever have their love and support and understanding.

To fail to see that they only wanted his happiness, as much as he wished for theirs.

He was simply taking his first real shot at it in... gods,  _ years _ . His feet had found steady purchase upon the ground, and he'd let hands grasp shakily at this little light.

Something once so unassuming, and faint.

Now so vibrant and bright in his fingers, it seeped deep into skin and bone and blinded him to his very core.

He'd found happiness.  _ True _ happiness, and his family wanted little else than to urge him to hold onto it with everything he had. It burrowed deep into his chest and threatened to burst with how tight it felt.

A hand settled onto what space it could find on his shoulder, buried as it was under a pile of Ruby, and he glanced up at violet eyes. He extracted an arm from about his youngest niece, gratefully taking Yang's offered hand. The two of them got a little ungracefully to their feet as arms were once more wrapped firmly about him, and yet again in as many weeks, found himself at the centre of his family's affections as they attempted to squeeze the life out of him.

He wasn't ever going to stop being their uncle, just as Ruby had said, and they weren't going to stop being his family.

Rather, he was allowing himself to choose his own happiness for the first time in a veritable lifetime, something he could grasp firmly within his fingers and not have it slip from him like so much falling sand.

He'd found something once so lost to him.

And it was enough for all of them.


	35. Togethers and Tomorrows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, so there was a wee bit of a delay with this chapter ajkdhjk
> 
> Life got **very** intense behind the scenes and I had to spend a bit more time cleaning and tidying this one up before it was anywhere near ready to post. That and I just plain _did not_ have the time to do much else outside of work and recovering from work and working on smaller projects.
> 
> But! This chapter comes with a couple of things to note. First of all, I've been writing this thing for over a year now, and today's the big ol' one year anniversary of when I first started posting this wild ride! Whoda thought when I first started bashing this out, it would've ~~taken this damn long~~ turned out like this? Certainly not me, even if I _did_ have some ideas about some elements of it along the way.
> 
> Secondly, there's a scene further down that, when I started writing it, I had a wee bit of inspiration for, and I'll be linking the art for that at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking around with me for so long and being super patient through this kind of unintended hiatus!

None of them wanted the night to end. That much was starkly apparent as they left the warmth of the little noodle shop and stepped into the brisk cold of the Atlas evening; lingering seconds and leftovers in hands.

But instead of feeling like they were all on borrowed time with each other, they merely felt like they were doing little more than spending time with their loved ones. They knew they'd all return to Atlas one day, and it was just another step in their journey.

Just another direction that one of them was taking.

Qrow kept the little plastic bag of precious cargo hanging about his wrist as he tapped away at his scroll, reading with steadying disinterest and growing disdain the few updates that he'd missed about the upcoming election. The sigh wanted to touch his tongue, and he swiped away the droll sight of the news, knowing there was little else he could do but deal with  _ that  _ in his life now.

The amount of petty bickering and endlessly eye-rolling political antics in Atlas was  _ almost _ enough to make him rethink his decision to stay.

Almost.

He brought up Clover's details, and for a handful of time, he hesitated. He knew he wanted to check in with him about how things went, just as he'd promised, but... it was silly of him. He almost wanted to wait and tell the man in person.

The faint smile traced warmly across his expression, and he  _ did _ sigh then. Clover probably didn't harbour the same level of doubt that Qrow had when it came to such weighty decisions, and would likely almost wager on the kids' reaction to the news if he were a betting man.

In the short time the operative had come to know them, he'd garnered more of an understanding of them all than most others would ever hope to accomplish. More to the point, he'd made one hell of an effort to do everything in his power to show them he meant nothing untowards their uncle in the slightest.

Something that had rewarded him in spades, if Ruby's half-blurted, almost-said words were anything to go by, and Qrow couldn't help the sound of amusement that slipped from him.

He still kind of liked how it sounded.

“There are not  _ nearly _ enough hearts on your screen for you to be making  _ that  _ kind of face.”

Yang's hand darted out for his scroll, deftly snatching it from his fingers, and it took the huntsman a heartbeat of time to splutter back to the world, red eyes whipping over to her. Colour flushed along his skin as he snatched a hand out to retrieve it, but she was faster and zipped out of his reach, hastily scrolling through their messages as she ducked in and out of their group.

“Oh my  _ gods, _ you  _ do _ actually use hearts!” she blurted, her words almost lost in a shriek of laughter.

“Give that back, you brat!” the words shot from him out of reflex, and a hand whipped behind Weiss' head to cut the blonde off. Devious laughter met his demand and Yang ducked easily behind another of their team.

“Manners first, thanks,” she grinned back at him.

“Oh I'm gonna  _ murder  _ you, firecracker...” he ground out, hands already extracting a certain someone's dinner from his arm and all but shoving it in the arms of a certain brat's girlfriend. Yang gave a sudden holler of bright laughter as she tore off along the sidewalk, Qrow darting after his brat of a niece, and Blake couldn't help but snort in giggles at the sight.

Nora joined in the raucous sound, all but doubling over with arms wrapped about her stomach as Weiss snuffled in barely restrained amusement behind her hand. Even Ren and Oscar seemed lost to laughter as they watch the pair tear further up the street, earning them all curious looks from passers-by.

Their chase showed no signs of waning, nor did the participants show any signs of slowing down as booted feet pounded heavily on icy pavement. Qrow was  _ almost _ tempted to swoop down upon the brat from on high and snatch his scroll back from her; and damn the notion that it felt like cheating.

He watched her vault over a low hedge, startling some nearby patrons of a restaurant, and kept furious pace with her as he tore past some pedestrians, missing them by inches as he also whipped alongside them. She was fast, he had to give it to her; but where she had youth on her side, he had leagues of experience when it came to chasing down prey.

Especially prey as bratty as his niece, and certainly when he had a stubborn streak a mile wide.

“Give it up, old man!” Yang called over her shoulder, still sprinting away from him. “I'm faster than you by a long shot!”

Qrow almost laughed as the grin split across his face. “That's what you think, punk!”

The blonde began laughing in response as she rounded a corner, the rest of their group long forgotten behind them. The huntsman was hot on her heels, and a hand snatched about a light pole as he made the same turn. He barely had a chance to react when he saw Yang give a sudden flail of arms; feet slipping out from under her on the icy pavement with a startled cry.

Red eyes were wide as all he could do was collide into her from behind, arms snatching about her waist and catching her in a sudden tight embrace, feet sliding them both to a stop. Blonde hair was still in his face as they both stood there for a handful of time, breathing hard from their sudden chase and finally realising neither of them were about to hit the deck. He felt her sigh in relief, shoulders slackening, and she gave a faint pat to one his his arms.

Qrow took it as a simple sign that she was safe, and he loosened his tight hold upon her, letting her breathe again. She pushed herself upright once more, stepping out of his embrace and turning to offer him a wry smile.

“Don't think for a second that counts as you catching me,” she told him, clearly amused at the sudden stop to their chase. Qrow could only snort lightly at her as he raised his hands in mild defence.

“ _ Sure, _ okay. Had nothing at  _ all  _ to do with a little bit of bad luck getting underfoot,” he replied, matching the brat's teasing smirk before he folded his arms across his chest. “Oh... wait, right, that was  _my_ bad luck catching up to you, so... I guess I win by default.”

Yang could only snort back at him, shaking her head as fingers tapped at his scroll briefly. He caught the sudden movement and his expression fell once more. Oh gods, right, she still had-

She tossed it lightly towards him, and he almost fumbled the damn thing as he snatched it out of the air. Red eyes could only blink at it for a moment, surprised at the sudden turn of events; nothing looked any different until he scrolled to the bottom of his messages-

Dark brows furrowed as shoulders fell in exasperation, and he ducked his gaze up to the blonde, entirely nonplussed.

“He's been _kid-_ napped? Really?”

She merely folded her arms across her chest, offering him a one-shouldered shrug.

“You expected anything else? Come on, you can last a few more hours without your space heater, right?” she offered by way of apology. The huntsman gave a faint huff of amusement as he tucked away the device, letting cold fingers linger in his pocket alongside it.

“Well, I was _planning_ to say something to that effect until I was rudely interrupted by a certain brat,” he told her simply. But there was tender amusement in his words, and he could only shake his head at her, glancing over his shoulder to where they'd both bolted from. Maybe not the best idea on a full stomach, and he met those violet eyes once more, smiling warmly at her. “But you know... you've got a good sense of timing, firecracker.”

The young woman raised a brow at him, giving him a dubious look as the wry sound of amusement slipped from him. He extracted the hand from his pocket, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, and Yang immediately zeroed in on the familiar sign of hesitation in the man. Particularly after everything they'd witnessed during the course of the night.

Hell, she'd seen her  _dad_ do it enough times to know when something was up.

“Depends what you want to say, I suppose...” Yang countered, baiting him and waiting him out. And Qrow knew in a heartbeat there was no real escaping what he wanted to say; family were good at that, he supposed.

The gentle laugh fell from him. “Well, guess I just...” He felt his words falter, and he knew he was scratching at air. He knew what he needed to say, but to outright give them a voice seemed far too blunt, even for him. And the longer he dragged it on, the more he knew Yang would see right through him.

She was sharp like that; just like her mother.

“You're all heading to Vacuo,” he began, easy smile on his face. Words were troublesome, but a smile he could do. Smiles were simple. “So I'll be expecting a postcard when you guys get there.”

Yang could only smirk at him. “What, afraid you'll start forgetting what  _sand_ looks like?” she taunted gently. Qrow pointed an accusatory finger towards her, laugh light upon his lips.

“Hey, you say that now, but there's a good chance it's going to happen at some point. I'm not getting any younger, and the memory's not what it used to be, you know,” he told her, earning him a flourish of laughter from the blonde.

And it was all the encouragement he needed to be as delicately blunt as he could manage. Hesitation sat upon his tongue for a handful of heartbeats, and the sigh fell light from him as he watched his spitfire of a niece come down from her mirth.

“But... more than that, I'm... going to miss you too, firecracker.”

His words stilled her entirely, and for a moment, she was thrown as she played them through her mind once more. Those bright eyes widened slightly, and faint colour brushed to her cheeks as she glanced away, something akin to mild embarrassment tinting her expression.

“Well duh, you think we aren't either?” she told him, sounding almost mildly indignant.

Qrow watched the subtle but knowing turn of her emotions, and he could only breathe out a gentle sound of amusement. He reached up with a free hand, placing it to her shoulder and giving a faint squeeze.

His niece was proud. Prouder than most, and he knew she would never never confess her true feelings in the company of others. Even those that had become as close as family.

There were certain things only kin could talk about in the company of their own.

“Not for a second,” came the easy reply. “But I _am_ going to miss _you_. Had the time of my life travelling with you guys, you know.”

It almost... felt whole again, his mind whispered to him.

Something once fractured and broken apart, and, for a little while, it was enough to remind him that they were all a family again. That he was part of a team again. That he could have  _both_ again.

But to say anything of the sort would be bringing up old wounds for the both of them, he knew. So he kept the gentle smile on his lips, and kept the words tucked away.

Yang lifted her gaze to him, and for a snatch of time she looked so torn at his words. So innocent and vulnerable as he said what she couldn't, and it settled deep within her chest. It squeezed tight at her heart and she dragged her eyes back to the ground once more, feeling anguish furrow at her brow.

He really... was staying here.

Their journey together was coming to an end.

“You don't... have to say it so casually, you know...” she murmured, as the first waver slipped into her voice.

Like popping a cork, it wrenched itself free, only to turn itself around and splinter deep into her, and she brought fingers to her stomach, curling lightly as she shook her head.

“Yang, hey...” Fingers squeezed her shoulder once more.

She held onto herself as best she could, and she could fight it off no longer as the tremor ran through faintly bunched shoulders and she shook her head faintly, lightly. Blonde hair spilled across her vision for a moment, and the glass finally shattered to the pressure upon it.

Mechanical fingers reached delicately for the front of huntsman's vest, and she pulled herself forward, burying her face into his chest.

It startled him for a handful of time, and with crystal clarity, realised that it wasn't Ruby's heart that was breaking at all.

It wasn't Ruby, who clung to him and mimicked him from such a tender age. It wasn't Ruby, who threw herself face first into whatever situation she found herself in. It wasn't Ruby, who tackled everything with a smile on a face and determination in her heart. It wasn't Ruby, who shone brightly and could see only the best in everything about her.

It was Yang.

It... was his sunny little dragon.

The one who wore her heart on her sleeve and loved so deeply it hurt. With burning realisation, he watched as she was saying goodbye to someone else in her life.

He threaded arms about her, gently embracing his niece as red eyes closed, and he let her spill her silent grief upon his shoulder in shudders and occasional soft hiccups. Soothing fingers ran across her back in easy circles as she held him tight enough to hurt.

Dark brows knit as he pressed his cheek to that warm cascade of hair, and his chest simply ached. He knew it was a decision that would hurt them. Hurt them  _all_ really. What he hadn't counted on was that she was more like her mother than she knew; keeping it all so tightly contained and buried so deep within until the band snapped, and everything was dashed to the ground.

He almost wanted to laugh at the similarities between them, if it wouldn't have driven the shard further into his heart, and certainly hers as well.

Instead, all he could do was hold onto her so tight as she burrowed and fought her way free from the passing thunder. A deafening spill of emotion that tumbled from her like water gushing from a shattered vase, and was just as quickly quelled and silent as it spilled from her.

Yang rubbed her forehead slowly against his chest as the last of her simple grief petered out, just as she had when she was a little girl, and he felt fingers loosen their tight hold upon him as she drew in a steadying breath. Letting it fill her lungs. Letting it calm her once more. Letting what had wrenched free settle, and allowing the splinter to slip out,  falling to the ground with a resounding clatter .

Just like a storm in a teacup, her father would often say, and violet eyes slivered open to the welcoming warmth and darkness of her uncle's chest.

She blinked a little, downright disliking the feeling of tears sticking to lashes, making her face hot, and she drew back enough to scrub at it all with a hand. At least, until fingers caught her hand, and gently guided it away from her face, tenderly finishing the job with a softer touch.

“How come you get to smile about this?” she murmured, only half joking, and his breath of amusement touched her ears as he brushed smeared tear trails away, delicately stepping about the question.

He reached behind him, gathering up a corner of his cloak. “C'mere.” He drew back lightly from the blonde, gently pressing the corner of fabric to scrunched eyes.

“Gross. Hope you know where that's been,” the words slipped from Yang, a little rough, earning him a soft laugh.

“Nowhere I wouldn't go, firecracker.” He let fabric slip from his fingers, and he reached up to the crown of her head, lightly fixing what had been mussed. “You know...” Qrow continued, barely above a whisper. “I... dreaded telling you guys, but there's one person I wish I could avoid telling for the rest of my life.”

“Who's that?” She asked, giving a short sniff.

“Your dad.”

The huff of laughter splintered from her, and that smile split across her expression; still a little fractured, but better than it had been. She reached up, palm giving a final rub to her face as she shook her head, meeting his gaze.

“He's not that bad...” she murmured, affection tinting her words.

“You don't know him like I do. If I don't make introductions the _second_ the Amity project is complete, he'll make the damn trip here himself.”

“He would not!” Yang told him through gentle laughter.

Qrow could only meet her laugh with a grin of his own, and he let his hand settle on her shoulder. “Have you  _met_ your dad? I'm fearing for Clover's  _life_ here.” Yang could only snort in response to that and she folded her arms across her chest.

“Alright, so he can be a little... overbearing at times,” she conceded with a soft hum. For a moment, everything seemed almost... normal, and the warm smile settled upon her expression. Despite the point he was trying to prove, her uncle had no qualms about openly mentioning how important it actually was to him, even if he hadn't outright said it.

No matter what would ever fall between them as family and team mates, seeking Tai's approval would always be meaningful to him.

Violet eyes met red once more, and her smile hitched at the corners.

Their family were good at not saying things, just like he'd once told her.

“But I don't think either of you have anything to worry about,” she continued. There was a beat of time, and she cocked her head a little. “Anyone can see how much you two love each other, and you can't tell me dad isn't going to be smitten with him too.”

_That_ had the desired effect, and red eyes blinked back at her, maybe a little too fast and a little too wide, as colour crept further along his neck and brushed across cheeks. He let his hand slip from her shoulder as he reached up to rub at the side of his neck, turning away from her gaze.

Yang felt her smirk broaden.

“And maybe by then you'll have that matching ring on the other-”

“Oh my gods, _enough_ already,” he ground out, even if he couldn't stop the huff of amusement that tinted his words. Embarrassment plucked at his chest like a harp and warmth already brushed across his cheeks, but at her bright laughter, he knew it was worth it if it meant he could hear that sound once more.

_That's better_ , his memories brushed at his thoughts.

_Suits you more than a frown._

The words gently spoken to him seemed so long ago, he knew, but they still brushed along the edges of his heart and had nestled deep into his thoughts. His smile warmed, and he felt something tighten faintly in his chest as fingers drew away from skin to fall lax at his side once more.

Just like so many other things he'd given him, the  man had burrowed expertly under the surface to mine away at the shards that sat deep within him. Chipping, chipping, until something dislodged, falling to the ground with a resounding clatter, and reclining comfortably alongside what had been rebuilt.

The sigh threaded from him, and he glanced back at his niece, meeting that cheeky smile of hers, more than glad to see its return. He allowed the breath of a laugh to slip from him, and he slung an arm about her shoulders, pulling her close to his side as he pulled them back down the street.

“Come on you,” he told her, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Let's go hit the town.”

***

Just as all of them had wanted, the night stretched well into the hours of darkness. Leftovers and seconds that had been saved for another day were soon recruited to refill hungry stomachs as evening ticked delicately into morning.

Atlas was a city that never truly slept, so for the family that walked its streets, it provided more than enough for all of them, and then some.

Ideas and activities had been discussed and tossed about in excited tones; all manner of movies and shopping sprees, arcades and amusements. Even mere sightseeing was a wondrous notion to those still getting used to the sights and sounds of the grand city, and Weiss was more than happy to help them find some of the hidden wonders beneath the glittering skyline.

Of course, the notion of more food was always going to be a part of it, and would never be open for debate. Even if they were unable to return to the noodle shop for the night, Atlas was still a world of tasty delights, and they were more than willing to sample whatever came their way.

Even if that  _ whatever _ turned out to be something as simple as ice cream on a freezing Solitas night.

Whilst not as extravagant as their shared dinner, it was still something that spoke to them dearly; a treat shared amongst friends and family, and something as rich as the laughter that traced through them all. Qrow was just glad they were all properly licensed nowadays and earning their own way; shouting them all was stretching an already thin budget to the extremes.

Not that he would ever begrudge them of anything, but there were some days on the road together when he had to make a stern argument for a proper place to sleep as opposed to something sweet to eat.

Most of the time he won the argument.

Almost.

It still didn't stop him from sharing in their decision to grab something sweet to eat this time around, and  _ despite _ his open grumbling after such a big meal, wasted no time in finishing off his sugary choice.

He still couldn't understand why they'd want ice cream in the aftermath of a snowstorm, but then again, he was  _ well  _ aware he'd made some pretty interesting choices in his youth. It brought the gentle laugh from his chest, and he could only shake his head at his family and their antics.

They really  _ were  _ kids at heart some days, and he adored them all the more for it.

Yet no matter how long they wandered together, no matter how often they stopped to share or laugh, no matter how long each of them wanted to put the rest of the evening on hold...

There really was no stopping their night from coming to a close, and for life to continue on about them.

It was occasional at first – yawns sneaking in between sentences, or the generous pauses that stretched between conversation – but soon each of them began to realise that there would be no more  _ real _ festivities from them. Not without some serious repercussions during their missions once the sun rose.

Qrow fished about in his pocket, digging out his scroll and immediately baulking at the messages he'd missed some... gods,  _ hours _ ago. He hesitated just as long when he noticed what time it  _ actually _ was, and knew in a heartbeat that to reply to anything now would do little else but probably wake the man who sent them.

The sigh slipped from him, and the faint smile crossed his lips.

Still, he knew Clover wouldn't begrudge him an opportunity to spend time with his family – no matter  _ how _ late in the night it carried them all. He flicked the device off, as a heavy weight slumped up against his side as they walked. Red eyes glanced down to see a familiar redhead all but sleepwalking alongside him, and he couldn't help the warm sound of amusement that threaded from him.

“Alright you, I think that's enough fun for one night,” he told her, slipping an arm about her shoulders and earning a sleepy grumble for his efforts.

Weiss could only offer a gentle laugh at the sight, even if she sounded just as tired. “I'm sure someone  _ else _ would say something  _ different  _ if she were still with us,” she remarked. Ruby opened her mouth to add to her words, when she found herself overtaken by a rather lengthy yawn, effectively silencing her.

“We are gonna be _such_ disasters tomorrow if we don't get some sleep soon,” Blake mentioned with a warm smile.

“Isn't it already tomorrow?” Yang asked with a short laugh, earning her a soft bump of a shoulder.

Qrow gave a faint noise of thought, thumb tapping at his scroll once more. “Well, looks like most of you lucked out,” he told them, skimming through an updated mission list. “Clover's uploaded your briefings early, and the worst that you lot have got is a Mantle patrol.”

Jaune gave a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping with the action. “At this point, I think I'll be  _ happy _ to take crossing duty,” he murmured.

“Ugh, wanna swap?” Nora mumbled from within Qrow's embrace, earning the soft laugh from the huntsman.

“You don't even know what you have yet,” he remarked, unable to keep the fond smile from his face. “ _And_ you lot are starting to sound like me with all the grumbling.”

“Yeah, only because we've been awake for _days_ now,” Ruby groaned at him, flumping onto his other side. It took a little bit of extracting, but the huntsman threaded his other arm about her shoulders. The girl carefully plucked his scroll from his hand, generously tucking it back into his pocket as they walked, earning her a gentle squeeze of thanks to a shoulder.

“There _is_ a solution to that, you know.”

“Sleep?” Ruby questioned softly, gazing up at him.

“Sleep,” came the knowing reply. “You might be used to running on empty for the most part, but doing it when you've got missions to complete for the high and mighty Atlas Military is something else entirely. And not something I recommend long-term.”

Oscar raised his hand to cover his mouth, a rather large yawn languidly overtaking him before he blinked sluggishly. “Oh, I like this sleep idea...” he murmured, barely able to drag his words out. Qrow glanced further along the path they walked, glad to see they were at least headed in the right direction as the piercing red lights of Atlas Academy winked down at him.

“Don't think _you're_ getting a sleep-in, just because you don't have any missions, buster,” Nora groused from his side.

“She _can_ still form complete sentences when she tries,” Ren commented gently, drawing the soft round of laughter from them all, tired as they all were.

For all of them, in more ways than one, and certainly more than they were expecting, the day had been a long and weary one. Something that left them all feeling drained and exhausted, yet something in their hearts still kept them warm and utterly filled.

They knew their time together would eventually come to a close, and all each of them could do was simply enjoy what they shared together where they were able. To make new memories to place alongside already cherished ones.

It's what they were best at, after all.

Tiredly tracing their way back to the Academy in the silent cool of the early hours, their group made their way back to the dorms, where beds lay and sleep was quickly soon to follow. Qrow hugged each of them goodnight as they slunk off to a blissful collapse, leaving him standing with two very tired nieces.

Red eyes could only flit between the two of them, and he drew them both in for a tight embrace, feeling the way arms immediately tightened about him. He curled fingers into a red cloak, so like his own, as his other hand threaded gently into flowing blonde.

And for a moment, it was simply the three of them. Their little family holding one another and knowing that they would always remain together, no matter what that meant. No matter what came between them, as Ruby had said.

_ You're not gonna stop being our uncle just because of a bit of distance. _

The warmth wrapped about his entire expression as he squeezed them tighter, and suddenly, he wasn't all that weary.

_ And neither is Uncle Clover. _

Just like with everything she said, there would always be truth to Ruby's words. And he would always trust in them.  _ Maybe  _ with a little less prompting than it had taken in the past, he thought with a brief hitch to lips. He drew back from the two of them, hands still lingering on shoulders.

They weren't kids anymore. None of them were. And he was still horrendously guilty of forgetting that fact and taking their words at face value, when he should have been taking them all to heart instead.

“Ugh, can we go already?” Yang's voice cut into his thoughts, and it drew the faint snort to life from the huntsman. “No offence, but it's super late and we're both really tired. Go find someone else to hug, would you?” she added, giving a playful tap of her fist to his arm.

“Alright, alright, hint taken, firecracker,” he told her with a roll of his eyes, and he darted a hand up to ruffle her hair messily. At her sharp yell of disgust, Ruby could only snort in sudden laughter, and before it could turn into full-blown war, she wrapped her arms about one of her sister's, tugging her towards their dorm.

“We'll see you in the morning Uncle Qrow!” came the bright call.

“Yeah, and tell Uncle Clover this is the  _ last  _ he's ever gonna see you!” Yang followed up sharply as the door slid shut, cutting off the sudden burst of the huntsman's laughter.

He was glad nothing was going to change. Utterly so.

But Uncle Clover... well.

The warmth bled into his smile, settling within his chest as he gently replayed the words through his head.

He could get used to hearing that.

He reached up to run fingers through his own hair, settling at the nape of his neck and feeling the delicate weariness that had crept into his bones stirring to the forefront of his mind now that he'd stopped moving. The sigh touched him as he made the decision to move, and began the quiet trek back to the front of the Academy; the open air of that rich velvet sky already a soothing difference to cold, stark ceilings. He still had a short flight to make, and he was already tired, but he had to reason with himself that it was a far quicker option than walking.

It certainly wouldn't be his first, nor his last time, attempting to fly somewhere with exhaustion nipping at his heels.

So after after a brief detour to a secluded part of the forecourt, black wings beat a rapid ascent into the dark of the sky, and a scattering of feathers was all that remained of the huntsman.

Cold slithered into it's body the further it travelled, and it had to wonder if maybe walking was the  _ warmer _ option, never mind the faster one.

Still, if it had the ability, it would've rolled it's eyes; a brief spurt of cold was nothing if it meant it could curl up somewhere warm in a matter of minutes.

_ And  _ it didn't have to worry about snow melting into hair or clothing in the meantime.

Dark wings beat a little faster, mind now utterly made up, and glad it knew the particular shape of the building it streaked towards. And also more than glad that the familiar tree-lined avenue it sat along still bore flourishing evergreens in the bitter cold.

With a sudden dive, the raven arced towards one of those trees, and rapidly sought a thicker branch to latch onto; wings flaring, and dislodging a light dusting of snow onto the ground as talons bit deep into wood. It glanced about itself for a moment, red eyes watching the street as it sat and waited, watching for any passers-by as the minutes ticked on. At this point in it's life, it was second nature to sit and allow a little time to trickle past before making itself known to the world.

A simple safety precaution. Before there was a brief scattering of black feathers, and the huntsman dropped to the ground in a crouch.

Qrow stood with a weary sigh, tucking a hand into his pocket as he made his way to the apartment with a certain someone's dinner still in tow. Honestly, he was surprised it lasted as long as it had with so many hungry mouths about him, and the brief hum of amusement slipped from him as he let himself into the blessed warmth of the building.

Finally opening the front door to their shared space, he was... surprised to see the lights still on. He blinked a little as red eyes wandered about, but beyond the dull light flickering from the muted television, he couldn't see nor hear any sign of the man as he kicked off his shoes.

His answer came as he walked through the kitchen, passing a cold mug of tea on the counter and tucking a promised dinner into the fridge before glancing across to the spacious couch. At once, the warm smile settled upon his lips as he saw a certain someone still in his uniform, sprawled upon cushions and scroll having fallen from an outstretched hand onto the rug.

Qrow could only give a gently exasperated sigh as he wandered to the end of the couch to kneel next to him, flicking the television off as he went. He reached out, delicately sifting fingers through brunet hair as the man slept on, content to take in this little slice of peace with him for a moment.

“... you didn't have to wait up for me, you know...” he breathed, knowing his words would go unheard.

He reached to the man's cheek, hesitating a moment and feeling the warmth of his skin there. Gently, with barely a breath of a movement, he brushed the back of his knuckles against the curve of the man's cheek. Clover stirred faintly with the soft touch, burying his face a little closer to the cushion beneath him, as the murmur slipped from parted lips.

Qrow felt something in his chest loosen at the sight, and heat stirred in the back of his throat. The whisper of a sigh fell from his lips as he stood, and with both hands upon the arm of the couch, leant forward to place a featherlight kiss to where fingertips once brushed.

“Time to rise, sleepyhead...” he murmured against skin, earning him a bare rumble of sound from the man. Qrow smiled broadly to himself as he placed another delicate kiss to a temple, and Clover stirred further under his gentle ministrations.

Green eyes slivered open, blinking languidly as he dragged himself up from his dreams. After a moment he drew a deeper breath into his chest, feeling joints protest as he curled in on himself a little; chasing dreams that were now lost to him. Qrow could only laugh gently at the sight, and he placed a hand to a shoulder, hoping to rouse him further.

“Come on, don't make me carry you to bed.” His voice was finally enough to get that groggy gaze to meet his own.

“... Qrow..?”

The barely audible breath of his name was enough to have him stooping to collect a fallen scroll, tucking it alongside his own for the moment. Hands gathered themselves upon skin and clothes, helping the barely awake operative sit upright. There was a groan of protest as Clover wavered there for a handful of time, Qrow standing nestled between his knees as hands lingered upon shoulders to help steady him. The moment stretched on a little before the man simply leant forward in defeat, burying his face into a warm stomach and thoroughly intending to use the huntsman as his new pillow.

With a soft laugh, fingers briefly threaded through short brunet. “Alright you, time for a  _ proper _ bed...” he told him, and it was all the warning he was going to give. He stooped briefly as hands tucked themselves firmly under the man, and with minimal effort, lifted him into his arms.

Clover startled lightly, the sudden dip of gravity wrenching him free from slumber, and hands groggily clutched at shoulders. The heady rush of waking up lasted only for a few heartbeats, and he found himself leaning further against the huntsman as he was carried off somewhere, green eyes fluttering closed as he settled heavily into those arms, hands hanging further down a cloak.

He wasn't sure where they were headed, but it was soothing and secure against his chest, and fingers curled loosely where they hung against soft fabric. It was nice being held in those strong arms.

It was... comforting.

Warm.

Brows furrowed lightly, as something stirred in the back of his mind, knowing he had something important he was supposed to do now that Qrow was home. There were gentle words in his ear as the huntsman said something to him, stirring him back into the waking world once more.

Gods above, but he was utterly drained and exhausted after a long day on the field. And then after an absolute mountain of work to catch up on after that blizzard, it still left him with an even longer wait since Qrow was out with-

Green eyes blinked sluggishly open, blearily focused on the world around him.

Oh, but that was it...

_ That's  _ what he had to ask about.

“... how'd tonight... mn... the kids...” He was sure he could still string together a complete sentence, but clearly his lack of sleep had other plans, and Qrow could only laugh gently in his ear as he tried in vain to fight against it.

“I'll tell you in the morning. Promise,” came the soft words, and Clover could only murmur something unintelligible in response. “Come on, let's get you to sleep.” Even if he was already mostly there, his mind quipped at him, wringing the faint huff of amusement from him.

It was a little awkward with the man being all but a giant sack of potatoes in his arms, but with a little bit of help from the sleepy operative, Qrow managed to set him on the edge of the bed and free them both of excess layers. He only had to steady the poor thing from nearly flopping over where he sat once or twice, and with a tired groan of apology, Clover soon found himself curled up alongside the huntsman in the dark. Comforting warmth enveloped his senses and gently brought him back to the precipice of sleep once more; a dangerous thing when he still needed to hold a lucid conversation with the huntsman.

The murmur of breath slipped from him as he kept his arm slung across Qrow's stomach, barely able to keep green eyes open. “... sorry... thought I could... wait up for you...” he mumbled against the curve of a shoulder. Fingers sifted through his hair, dangerously lulling him further back into slumber.

“You didn't have to,” came the gentle reply as lips pressed to the crown of his head. “And it was always gonna be a long night. Thought Yang told you as much.”

“... told me you got kidnapped...” he breathed through a yawn. “... wanted to see if... you needed rescuing...”

Qrow let the breath of a laugh fall from him, enjoying this sleepy, open side to the man. For the few times he'd already seen it, he still thought it was downright adorable. Fingers slowed in their gentle movements.

“Lucky for you, I can handle a few teenagers kidnapping me for the night,” he replied softly, drawing his other arm about the operative, keeping him close as he relaxed alongside the huntsman's form. He felt Clover sigh against skin as he buried his face further into his neck, lips grazing a pulse.

“Hey... I'm home now... no more fighting it, you dweeb,” came the gentle prodding of words. Clover felt his brow furrow lightly at the soft tease, but he couldn't find it within himself to bite back. Not when it was so warm against him, and he felt so utterly drained.

In the morning, though... first thing in the morning was fair game.

“... love you...” he breathed against skin, feeling himself rapidly tumbling over the edge of slumber.

Qrow could only glance down at him for a moment, caught as he was with his breath stilling on his tongue, and he felt the warmth settle about his heart. Felt it pull at the edges of his smile to smooth out the last lines of weariness that clung to him.

Felt the way that the force that had been chipping, chipping, at the broken shards that surrounded his heart... didn't need to strike at them any longer.

It simply lay the pickaxe at its feet, and allowed itself to bask in what had been carved from the walls and the ruins.

And it was enough.

The huntsman drew his hand further along an arm, fingers finding the curve of the man's cheek as he lingered on the edge of sleep, and a thumb stroked gently at skin.

“Love you too...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a link to a piece of art that inspired a part of this chapter, and here we are! During Qrow's goodnight hug to his family, and subsequently his nieces, I was immediately reminded of a piece I'd seen months earlier, and I wanted to include the image of the three of them somehow.
> 
> So shoutout to Renabe for inadvertently giving me [one of the sweetest family mcfeels hugs](https://renabe4life.tumblr.com/post/625198226899910657/countering-vent-art-with-family-feels) to write a scene to ♥


	36. Playtime and Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof, and we're back after a heaping helping of Life Getting In The Way and general shenanigans behind the scenes! Apologies for the super delay on this chapter coming out, but things have not been kind to me in the last few months, so the old words didn't want to cooperate all that much for this fic.
> 
> But **two things of note for this update!** I'll be participating in Fair Game Week 2021, so the next update will _certainly_ be coming out after that event, and secondly, this chapter references the events of a side piece that was written for Fair Game Weekend, [Clouded.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772280) The events of that particular piece settle somewhere between chapters 29 and 30 of this fic, and it's pretty much a blink and you'll miss it mention, but I enjoyed writing it and would appreciate it if y'alls would check it out.

Green eyes lazily followed the clouds in the sky through sparse foliage as fingers absently traced the seams of his compact weapon; his thumb finding an almost imperceptible spot to worry upon the metal. It was the only sign of tension within him as he leant almost casually against a tree. Far from gazing up at the hazy sight of Atlas that hung in the sky like a tethered cloud, high above the far stretches of the mountain, he searched for something far smaller through the light snowfall.

Something that was a mere speck of dust compared to the size of that mighty stretch of land.

His quarry was heralded with the sharp cry of a raven, and he darted his gaze up and off to the left, catching sight of the pitch black bird circling above him, drawing the smile to his lips.

Clover pushed himself away from the tree, tucking his weapon securely back in place and stepping out from under snow-laden foliage. Not that he wouldn't have minded scouting ahead himself, but if they wanted to keep the element of surprise, well...

What better job suited to a bird than reconnaissance?

He watched as the raven sighted him and dove towards the ground, black wings tucking back and slicing through the air like a dart. Clover damn near drew a breath as wings flared out at the last possible moment; with a sharp upwards arc, the bird suddenly wheeled up and away from the icy ground, narrowly avoiding collision.

In a burst of black feathers, the huntsman appeared in it's place, suspended almost weightless in the air before gravity snatched at him. Booted feet landed on the ground hard; legs absorbing the shock as he slid forwards a little, carving a short line in the fresh snow and slowing himself to a stop with a brief jog towards the brunet.

Clover didn't know whether to laugh at his little display or shake his head at his cheek.

“Well, look who finally made it to the rendezvous,” Qrow told him with a smirk, hands settling on hips as the low breath of a laugh left him. “Thought you were going to let me handle this one solo with how long you took.”

Cheeky indeed.

“Figured I had plenty of time to get here after your sleep-in this morning,” came the brisk retort.

The huntsman turned his gaze away with a soft snort, the fond smile crossing his expression before he began to walk along the snowy path. So that's how it was going to be.

“I mean, _some_ of us got plenty of sleep last night,” he said as Clover fell into step alongside him, boots crunching faintly upon the ground. “You're cute when you're passed out on the couch, by the way.”

The operative couldn't help the bright laugh that slipped from him at the words, and he _did_ shake his head at him. He was more than glad the huntsman had answered his scroll when he did though; not that he was concerned about completing a mission on his own, but he still needed to catch up with him about the previous night.

About his family and how well they'd taken everything.

About...

The breath stilled on his tongue, and he glanced up at the huntsman with a wry smirk as the two of them followed the trail. He seemed... more content than he had been when he'd last seen him, and the smile he wore was genuine. No matter what had happened with the kids, there would have been no hiding how he truly felt if something had turned sour.

Qrow was masterful at many things, but even _that_ was beyond him.

“I'll take your word for it,” he answered softly, returning his gaze to the far off end of the trail, where it vanished further into the trees. There was nothing in sight yet, and he could still hear distant bird calls, suggesting they were safe for the moment. That, and Qrow hadn't made ready for any nearby attack from their quarry in the slightest. He allowed his gaze to return to the foliage about them, thoughts drifting not for the first time to the place they were headed to.

The quiet sigh slipped from him. “This forest sure does bring back memories...”

There was a momentary pause as Qrow raised a brow at him, before actually focusing on the scrawl of a trail they walked. It took him a handful of time, and as it clicked in the forefront of his mind, the smile split across his lips.

“Oh, the place I won our bet?”

“The place you _cheated_ , thank you,” came the swift response.

Qrow snorted dismissively. “I am a firm believer in using everything at your disposal to win, and I did _exactly_ that.”

“You turned into a _bird_ , Qrow,” Clover told him with a shake of his head, delicately dislodging some of the snow that had settled in hair. “There's no way I could've accounted for something I didn't know at the time.” The huntsman levelled his smirk at the man and gave a vague, one-shouldered shrug.

“Use the tools you got,” he replied with the flippant gesture.

The operative could see there would be no winning _this_ competition of theirs, and he allowed shoulders to bump together as they walked, earning him a soft laugh in response. He was glad to hear the gentle sound, even if he couldn't remember it all that clearly from the night before.

He was glad... because it meant things had gone well, and it was all he could ever hope for.

Brows almost furrowed as he allowed his thoughts to linger on what he _could_ recall, hazy as it was. Honestly, after he'd finished his nightly mountain of work on his scroll, he thoroughly intended to curl up with his tea and read for-

Green eyes widened faintly as he realised with stunning clarity _exactly_ where he'd left his tea the night before, and nearly sighed, as it meant that Qrow had _also_ found it.

It was a habit he sorely needed to break.

Still... all he could really remember was the warmth of the huntsman against him, fingers gently guiding him further back into slumber after the almost startling sensation of being carried for the second time in as many weeks as he could recall.

It was comforting to know that this time around there were less Centinels involved, though it did remind him to ask about their mission, and he parted lips to voice the question.

“You know,” Qrow's voice dipped into his thoughts, cutting him off before he could give them purchase. “Sure wouldn't have picked this place to be a nest of any kind. Seems too... open.”

Clover watched the way those red eyes traced the treeline, following down the gentle slope of the trail, and up to the edges of the mountains that bordered the forest they walked. The huntsman _did_ have a point. The forest itself was hardly dense, and the path they walked was wide; broad enough for a Manta to comfortably nestle in for a landing without too much hassle.

“Which means it's either something small, fast, or good at hiding,” the brunet finished his thoughts as he turned his gaze back to the path. His brows furrowed for a moment, and he glanced back at the huntsman. “You're sure you didn't see anything from up there?” Clover's voice slipped into his thoughts once more, and red eyes blinked over to the man.

“I wasn't just stretching my wings while I waited, you know,” came the amused reply, and he pointed off towards their left as they walked. “There's a cave a couple hundred metres in past the trees; figured it's the most likely place to start.” Clover followed the huntsman's mark, as the details for their mission ran through his head once more.

Nothing but a simple search and destroy for a pack that had grown too large for comfort.

“Makes sense,” he conceded, and he reached up to rub at the side of his neck at muscles that still held a lingering ache. Qrow caught the movement, and his hand reached out to settle at the nape of the man's neck.

“A little sore?” he asked, even as he kneaded fingertips into skin. Green eyes closed briefly at the blissful pressure, and the sigh fell from him as he dropped his own hand to his side.

“Only a little,” he answered with a gentle laugh. “Happens when you fall asleep on a couch and wake up at a strange angle.” Qrow allowed brows to furrow lightly at the statement.

“How long were you there?” came the soft question. Clover seemed almost faintly embarrassed for a handful of time, and lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced briefly down at the path, seemingly mulling over the question.

“Well... I _remember_ sending that last message to you.” A flicker of a pause. “I think.”

Dark brows rose at the simple admission, and Qrow couldn't stop the short bout of laughter that shot from him if he tried. It fell from him brightly, and brought the warm smile to the brunet's lips, even if he _did_ want to sigh at him.

“Cloves, that was _hours_ earlier!” came the laughing words as his hand slipped away. “You should've just gone to bed, you dweeb.”

Whatever reply sat upon his tongue suddenly dried up entirely, and Clover gawked back at the huntsman with wry surprise, something about the phrase tickling his memories a little. Gods, but he hadn't been called that since he was a _cadet_ , and amusement wreathed his expression as he shook his head.

“Probably. But I knew who you were with last night and why,” he countered simply, keeping green eyes firmly upon him. His words were already enough to bring that gaze to his, and his smile softened as he spoke. “I... wanted to see if you were alright after that. All of you, really.”

He lost a little of his nerve and glanced away briefly, the sigh touching his tongue. “And we haven't exactly had a chance to speak about it yet.”

Qrow felt his mirth settle gently within him at the soft words, leaving behind a warmth that smoothed over everything else in its wake. He almost wanted to laugh at the man's worries, if they hadn't mirrored his own so succinctly. He was right, however; the operative's usual pre-dawn start left the huntsman sleeping soundly for another couple of hours, and Qrow had only woken up with the sudden chime of a mission alert, loud and obtrusive and dragging him firmly out of a blissful slumber.

He'd barely rubbed the sleep from his eyes and scratched together his first coffee of the day when he actually read what had woken him, and he'd all but groaned in exasperation. He _knew_ he saw it there the night before when he'd checked, and he'd gone and forgotten about it entirely.

It also meant that Clover had been on the job for hours by that point, and it was, given the current tack of their conversation, something that had silently gnawed at his thoughts for some time.

Qrow smiled faintly to himself; so much for Clover being a betting man, the wry thought slipped under his skin.

He'd been just as worried about their family as the huntsman was, it seemed.

Fingers reached out, finding the brunet's hand and lacing easily together. The move was enough to bring the man out of his quiet reverie, and he blinked back at him, knowing his trailing silence had been caught.

“The kids...” Qrow began softly, and his thoughts trailed off, caught a little as he gathered his words together. The quiet exhale slipped from him, and he focused on the man once more.

“They're... actually pretty fine with it,” the huntsman settled on finally. Red eyes flicked away briefly, allowing the warm smile to cross his expression as events from the night before trickled into his memory. Of family so loving and supportive, of tight embraces and laughter and tears.

Of nieces and new days. Of good food and good company. Of family and festivities.

Of everything that he could ever have hoped for when he thought of his rag-tag group of teenagers.

Warmth lingered in his thoughts as he brought himself gently back to the world, and he squeezed fingers lightly.

“Not all that surprised by it either; not really,” he added with a faint sound of amusement. “They had my number before I even opened my mouth to say anything.” Red eyes ducked up to the far end of the path, taking in the horizon so smudged with trees, and the faint exhale slipped past his smile. “Most of them had an idea about it, I think... and all they could do was give me their blessing.”

No, that wasn't right, his mind whispered softly, and he turned his gaze back to the man, searching those brilliant green eyes.

“Both of us.”

Clover knew the words were meant for more than just him, and they were enough to help smooth over the huntsman's own worries that had probably spun and turned and trickled through his thoughts all night long. Yet all he could offer him was a gentle smile as the words settled deep within his chest, stilling fears and staying the hand of concerns that once gnawed at him so.

There was still a hesitation in him, and he knew the source all too well.

Green eyes flicked to the huntsman's collar, lips parted to reply in the same moment he heard the breath of amusement fall from him. But it sounded vaguely forlorn to his ears, and he returned his gaze to now downcast red.

Fingers tightened, ever so gently.

“It's... still going to hurt them for a while...” came the whispered admission, and that gaze skittered further across the snowy path as he wore that glaze of a smile. “Crazy to think it wouldn't.”

Qrow's feet stopped, and Clover was made to stop with him, and brows furrowed as they watched the sudden turn of the huntsman's words.

Hesitation was taking root right before him once more. And as green eyes watched him, he knew it wasn't his own.

“Qrow.”

“I just...”

The words bled atop one another, and it was enough to bring red eyes to his own, and the softly apologetic smile found him. Clover could only see it for the mask that it was and he turned to face him properly. No matter what choice he could've made, there was always going to be someone inevitably hurt by it. Fingers unlaced from one another to settle upon the curve of the huntsman's shoulder and he waited a handful of time for the air to still about them.

“It's a decision that would hurt anyone,” he began simply. Blunt and eloquent, as his words had been in the past with the huntsman. “No matter who it was, how long they had to think about it, or anything else.” He kept the breath in his lungs, and he almost continued speaking until it sighed softly out of him instead, and his eyes followed fingers as they drew their way to Qrow's sternum, laying flat and feeling the warmth of skin beneath.

“But... you should always be _allowed_ to choose. Not just for your family, but... for yourself. For your own happiness.”

He spoke so gently to him, and Qrow felt red eyes widening faintly at the words, and for a heartbeat of time, his mind was back in that small noodle shop, standing within the warm embrace of his family.

 _This is something you've decided for you, and we're not about to get in the way of that_.

If he had any sort of doubts or reservations that Clover knew what lay within his heart, or failed to understand or misconstrue the same feelings from his family, then the man's words had simply swept them aside like so many crumbs.

“And the hurt... will always be there, but over time it fades. Over time, it gets...” the brunet let his words trail off delicately, and the faint quirk of lips matched the brief huff of amusement that slipped from him; memories of another sort playing behind his own eyes. Those eyes finally met Qrow's once more, and the smile he wore was faint, but genuine in the snow that fell light about them.

“It gets better,” he settled on finally, fingertips curling lightly into fabric. “Leaving family behind is always hard, but they're strong. And they might miss you every single day, but they're not going to stop loving you any less because of a choice you made for your own happiness.”

The world could have fallen apart about them, and Qrow would've been blind to it all as Clover's words settled deep into his bones. He'd managed to delicately slip his fingers so perfectly under his skin and speak so gently to his heart that it wrought whatever thought he'd had from his mind entirely.

“Besides.” The man's voice brought him back once more, and gods but the smile he wore was warm enough to melt the snow from the ground. “You're not going to stop being their uncle, just because of a little distance.”

Qrow almost wanted to laugh, if he had the presence of mind to do so.

He reached up, covering that hand with the warmth of his own, and allowing the smile to slip into place; something small at first, and barely there, but it settled softly across his entire expression.

His own happiness...

Something he'd spent a lifetime trying to chase, only for it to slip between his fingers like so much sand each and every time. And now here he stood, the very thing he'd been yearning for right before him, with his hand upon his heart, and he felt something in his chest twist at it.

He was giving up everything for his chance to be happy, and all anyone could do was speak their warmth to him.

To show that no matter his choice, he still had their unconditional love and support and would always be a part of their family, regardless of where he stood in the world.

He felt the breath fall from him in a shaky exhale, and a hand reached up to his cheek gently, but far from crumbling under the weight of it all, all he could do was bask in it. He reached up to lace his own fingers about warmth once more, and he met that gentle gaze as his eyes glistened with unshed tears, smiling so brightly at him.

“I'm not even kidding,” he began, voice wavering faintly. “Please quit the military and switch careers.”

Clover could only laugh softly at him, and a thumb stroked his cheek delicately as foreheads met.

“Only if you get to be my star patient,” he echoed the words shared between them from what felt like a lifetime ago, earning him the return of that gentle laugh. Fingers slipped away from his hand, threading further back into brunet strands.

And it was enough for him. It was enough to hear his thoughts gently smoothed, and worries delicately worked upon until the creases slipped away. To feel the warmth of fingers as they placed reassuring touch upon his skin, and firm embrace to his being as they wrapped about him so tight.

To have someone in his life who had slipped so delicately between the pages of his book, found the place he'd lost his words, and gently helped him guide his fingers back to the paragraphs once more.

Those lips brushed his, a quiet invitation, and all he could do was smile against them, feeling warmth radiating from him as he met them with that same gentleness. He felt as hands slipped further down skin and cloth, fingertips running firm along the huntsman's sides to settle at his waist, keeping him close.

He let his own fingers skirt across broad shoulders, hands hanging loosely clasped together behind the nape of his neck, and simply relishing in the feeling of a closeness that no longer seemed so surprising to him.

It no longer seemed like some distant, undeserved dream.

If he told himself a few months ago that he'd wind up finding someone that would shake the very foundations of his core, strip his soul bare and allow fingertips to delicately pluck and unravel the tightly buried mess of knots upon knots bound so deep within him, well...

He would've laughed at yet another one of life's cruel jokes. A simple dream, he would have said. Something for people who deserve it, and not the wretched excuse for a person he once was.

The soft sound bled between them, and Qrow drew a hand back to thread through greying strands, feeling their softness.

He'd never been so glad to be arrested in his life, he thought with soft amusement.

Qrow felt thumbs stroke idly at his sides, and red eyes slivered open as those lips drew away, a bare breadth from him. The delicate brush of a nose against his own brought the warm smile to his lips, and he almost wished they didn't have to worry about the rest of the mission.

“I guess I'm a little biased...”

The breath of a whisper touched his skin as foreheads met, and dark brows raised faintly in silent question.

Clover allowed the gentle roll of amusement to fall from him as hands shifted once more, tracking further up the huntsman's back and travelling languidly along his spine. Qrow closed his eyes at the touch, relishing in the delicate feeling of it.

“But I kind of... don't mind the choice you've made, too,” the brunet told him finally.

Those red eyes opened once more at the soft words, and he couldn't stop the wry smirk from collecting across his lips if he tried. He curled fingers into short strands, resisting the urge to simply ruffle his hair like the cheeky brat he was.

“You _are_ biased,” he told him with a breath of a laugh. “But I think you're allowed to be, given the circumstances.”

It was Clover's turn to smile, and fingertips curled lightly atop muscle, skirting the edge of shoulder blades.

“And what would they be?”

That smirk hitched faintly.

“You love me.”

Clover laughed gently at the words, and his smile warmed as he let them settle deep in his chest. He leant forward, allowing lips to brush light against the huntsman's.

“I love you.”

All Qrow could do was return that smile at the soft echo of his words, before lips were claimed once more, and his heart felt full. He breathed in deeply as he felt fingertips trace idle lines upon his spine, letting everything that was the man slip into his senses, and fingers drew back from brunet strands to curl gently against the curve of a cheek.

The hand that life dealt him wasn't all bad, he realised, if this is what fate finally awarded him.

His thumb gave a gentle stroke to skin, and red eyes slivered open briefly, before finally closing as heat delicately brushed along his collar.

After everything that had ever befallen them both, it was enough.

It... was more than enough...

The silence of the forest slipped about them, and for a moment in time, they could be forgiven for thinking they were the only two in the world. Even the light snowfall could barely hope to disturb them as it delicately settled upon hair and clothing, lost as they were in the other.

Yet they were both still huntsmen, and no matter how deep their senses became entangled in one another, there would always be things that took priority. Always something to remind them of their duty to the world around them.

Even if, for a handful of time, they wished only to ignore that duty.

In the gentle blanket of silence that settled about them in the sparse forest, there came a sharp and resounding snap of a branch, tearing the two apart as if scalded. Hands whipped tightly about weapons and eyes were already scanning the treeline for danger.

Qrow couldn't help but feel the way his heartbeat thudded in his ears, and he cursed himself for getting thoroughly distracted. _More_ than thoroughly distracted, and he swallowed, wondering how the man was allowed to keep _doing that_ to him.

“Think we found our Grimm...” came the faint murmur from next to him. The words earned him a soft snort of wry amusement.

As if answering from the very trees themselves, there came a low guttural sound of warning. Something small and something _very_ good at hiding, considering both of them had yet to see their target. Dark brows went up in faint recognition, and Qrow spun around sharply to survey their rear, broadsword snatched firmly in his hands and held before him.

The hiss of irritation bled across his lips as red eyes swept along the rest of them Grimm that had surrounded them almost expertly.

Creeps.

Small, good at hiding, and even better at moving as a pack.

He _hated_ the smarter ones.

“Guess we'll have to save the rest of our conversation for later,” the huntsman commented simply, and there was a soft laugh in response. Clover drew Kingfisher into his hand, as booted feet readied themselves upon the snow.

“I'll hold you to that, you know,” came the jovial reply.

The words earned him a wry quirk of a smile, and with a swift shifting of metal and gears, the scythe spun into view, at the ready.

“I hope you do...” Qrow breathed, and he shot from his place. He closed the distance between himself and the first of the Creeps that charged at him with a bellow, and with a sharp upwards strike, returned it to ash. The second fared just as well when Qrow reversed his strike, ramming the butt of Harbinger's handle directly into it's bony forehead, crushing the plating and dropping it to the snow.

It was all it took for the others to snarl their existence to the sky, and the pair suddenly had the creatures tearing towards them from all sides, snow kicking up in their wake as powerful legs thundered across the ground.

Clover grinned to himself as he snatched his other hand about Kingfisher, further up above the reel, and with a sharp flick, it suddenly came apart in his hands; the line feeding between them as he whipped out both ends, extending them before him like a pair of nunchaku. With a flick of the hidden button upon the handle, the line locked into place, and green eyes swept quickly across the little pack descending upon him.

He knew there was no danger of getting up close and personal with these particular Grimm.

Hell, taking them out in close quarters was far more fun, he thought.

With a jagged harpoon in one hand, and a vicious hook in his other, he shot towards the first of the creatures, slicing along it's side before spinning artfully to dodge another that charged at him. It snapped it's head around to bite at the man, furious it had missed, and was rewarded with a swift knee to the jaw, dazing it. Clover whipped Kingfisher out from one hand, the hooked end acting as a whip as he snapped the end of it deftly, tearing through the creature.

Snatching both parts into his hands once more, he ducked out of striking range of another before he whipped around, stabbing out at another two that attempted to ram him. Qrow called out sharply from behind him, and without a beat of hesitation, the brunet dropped immediately to the ground on one knee, fingers splaying into the snow.

He felt the sudden rush of Harbinger's blade singing through the air where his head once was, raking through a couple of Creeps that had darted towards an exposed back and feeling the last of their brittle ash rain down upon him. Green eyes shot up across his shoulder, behind the huntsman, and he was already moving; booted feet pushing him up from the snow and darting past Qrow as he flung Kingfisher to the ones that pursued him like a pair of deadly bola.

With a solid thwack, both ends struck true, and the two Grimm dropped to the snow, entrenching themselves in the fresh powder. Clover never broke his stride, and snatched up his fallen weapon from their ghostly dissipations once more, ready for the next few that bellowed at him from afar.

The creatures knew they'd encountered a fight, but they certainly weren't going to give up their territory without one hell of a struggle.

“Alright, now we're even,” Qrow called across the snow as he belted a few more of the Creeps away from him, not watching where they landed before more simply took their place. Gods above, but they were almost never ending; what kind of nest had they stumbled upon?

“Even?” The word laughed its way back to him. “I think I'm beating you by two!”

The huntsman gave a snort at that, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he sized up the pack before him. _Clearly_ someone else was watching the wrong side of the fight, and he darted out of the way as a Creeps rammed past him. He flipped Harbinger in his hand, swiping after it with the backside of the scythe and whacked the creature viciously into another approaching cluster, sending them all flying back into little more than ash.

His weapon retracted quickly back into the broadsword, and the blade cocked downwards. With a few loud blasts of buckshot, he dispatched of the rest of the converging Grimm that dared to surround him.

The huntsman swept fingers back through a fringe, a wayward grin painting his expression across his shoulder as the blade snapped firmly into place once more, and he met those green eyes.

“And _now_ I'm beating you by three,” came the smug remark and equally flourishing twirl of a broadsword, before he leapt into the fray once more, Harbinger singing through the air.

Clover felt himself stutter to a complete stop as that brilliant smile flashed back at him. It caught him off-guard entirely, not expecting to even _see_ the sudden flair of expression from the huntsman, and he found his own smile brushing across lips, warm and perhaps more than a little surprised.

Seeing Qrow in his element and downright enjoying the thrill of it all was a sight to see alright...

It made him want to see it all the more.

It took the sound of a snarling Creeps rampaging towards him heavily to tear his attention back to the fight, and he snapped Kingfisher up before him once more.

Using the ends like twin blades, he raked them towards the Grimm in sequence; the hook catching that bony plating sharply, wrenching it's head down and away from him as a harpooned end came down to finish the job. As it fell to ash before him, he sprinted through the cloud, swirling it about him as he took to the next one in the same fashion.

There was a sharp roar at his side, and he saw another three charging towards him. As he spun to face them, a fourth leapt overhead on powerful legs. Clover snapped Kingfisher back together once more, grasping it firmly with both hands, and with the weapon only partly extended, rammed the hooked point up to meet it like a spear.

He ran it through the creature and the hook snared precisely. Before he could lose his momentum – and the Grimm could dissipate – he spun sharply and swung the creature towards the other two like a battering ram. They collided with a resounding crack of bony plating that echoed through the trees and further about the valley, even drawing Qrow to a short stop as the vicious sound shot into the air.

Red eyes caught sight of what had brought the sound to life and he breathed a short sigh; fingers relaxing their sudden tight hold upon Harbinger. Gods, but that was _not_ a sound he was fond of on the field. Especially considering the last time he heard it out in the snow.

“Hey!” he called across the snow, whipping those green eyes towards him. “Let's wrap this up already!”

Clover met the words with a quick nod, and he swept his gaze over what was left of the pack. The knowing smirk settled into place as he returned his attention to the huntsman, watching him dispatch with another of the creatures.

“Six a piece? With those odds, you just might win,” he commented wryly.

Those eyes narrowed at him sharply, disdain settling thick on Qrow's expression. Without a word, he spun Harbinger into one hand, sharply extending the war scythe and sprinted towards the closest of the pack. He tucked it tight against his back and spun sharply as they descended upon him, jaws parted for a quick kill, and he slashed through the first three of them, sending them to nothingness.

With the handle still pressed against his spine, he withdrew the weapon back to a scythe, and whipped it around before him once more, dispatching of another in the interim. The broadsword snapped back into his hand and he sharply tossed it towards another of the Grimm, darting after his weapon without a pause.

It struck true, impaling the thing nearly half the length of the blade, and he snatched his hand about the handle just as it began to fall free of the ash. Without breaking his stride, he quickly slammed the flat of the blade against the open jaws of another, deflecting the bite like a shield.

With a brief growl of annoyance as the creature gnawed about the metal, acrid breath in his face, he flicked the scythe into existence once more, jarring the creature bodily away from him. Before the momentum of the extension could throw the thing free, he spun it about, slamming the Creeps into another that waited to maul him.

He drew himself upright, broadsword collapsing back into his hand as he raked fingers back through a fringe.

Nothing like a challenge to get the blood pumping, he thought, red eyes seeking out the operative and ready to claim his victory.

He had half a heartbeat to suck in a breath and jerk his head to the side, as a barbed hook whizzed past his cheek, and he _damn_ near smacked it out of the air in reflex. The sound of it striking something solid behind him already had him darting his gaze back to follow it, and he caught the final stagger of the last Grimm as it collapsed into the snow, body carving a short trench in the powder as it slid to a stop at the huntsman's feet.

Dark brows stayed furrowed at the sight as the creature dissipated back into nothingness, and only when there was a brief flick of a line, and the whip of a hook retracting back to its owner, did Qrow allow the sigh to slip from him in faint relief.

What _was_ it about people from Atlas sending things flying a hairs breadth past his face?

He turned to face the man, an accusatory glare levelled at him, and Clover could only give a a vague one-shouldered shrug by way of apology. Something that looked _entirely_ dismissive and not at _all_ apologetic in any way.

“I knew you'd see it,” came the simple words as Kingfisher collapsed into the man's hand. The huntsman refused to let himself sigh in exasperation again, and instead tucked his own weapon safely away, feeling its steady weight at the small of his back.

“Oh? And what if I hadn't, hm?” he replied easily, raising a challenging brow at the operative.

Clover could only flick him a knowing smile, clipping Kingfisher to his belt as hands fell to his hips. “Well... what's one more scar?”

 _That_ struck true, and Qrow could only blink back at him for a moment, a little thrown by the soft statement. He knew he still bore the faintest of marks from that blow to his forehead, and he _damn_ well knew that Clover was aware of that fact. Hell, ever since the man's little admission that night in the infirmary, he was _well_ aware of it.

If that alone wasn't enough of a tell, then the rest of his actions should have been. Every so often when feeling those fingers gently sifting through dark hair, he'd feel them dip past his hairline to delicately trace across the faint mark. It was the same with the angry red line across his stomach, or the faded mark across his chest. Or with the way fingers and lips grazed across the little score at the back of his hand.

Clover simply found fascination in each and every one of their stories, and he chose to paint his affections along each and every one of Qrow's marks. Where the huntsman only saw little imperfections and careless mistakes, the brunet could only see them as a testament to his tenacity and his ability to live, no matter what.

It was something that shouldn't have surprised him at all about the man, and yet there he stood, feeling heat creeping about his collar as he resisted the urge to rub at the back of his neck like some teenager called out about their crush.

Gods above, he was a capable and functioning adult, and not some flustered teenager.

Honestly now.

He didn't even _know_ how to counter the man's words, and he glanced away with a faint brush of his smile.

“Let's just... finish the mission, alright?” he offered with a breath of a laugh, trying for all the world to get his mind back on track, and _not_ stutter entirely on the memories of lips and fingers tracing each and every one of the marred constellations upon his skin.

With that said, and a final lingering glance of knowing affection towards the man, he turned away from him, thoroughly intent on getting them both back on track as he started further into the sparse forest.

Or at least, he would have, if there hadn't been the sudden but gentle tug at his cloak, pulling him to a short stop between footsteps. The soft sound of surprise fell from him as he steadied himself, before there were arms encircling his waist from behind, and pulling him further against a warm body.

Lips brushed against the nape of his neck, and red eyes closed at the gentle feeling, allowing his own hands to seek the ones teasing at the hem of a vest. Of all the times for him to decide to be an insatiable brat... The smile almost broke full upon Qrow's lips, as he _thought_ the man knew better than to try and play hooky during a mission.

Still... not that he was complaining about the turn of events at all, but they were still technically on the clock.

One of them had to worry about following procedure, after all.

“You know...” that voice began in his ear, as if dipping into the pages of his thoughts and tossing the entire book to the wayside. Qrow felt his lips quirk at the tone of that voice, and fingertips traced further along a forearm to find the curve of the man's cheek. “We still have that conversation to finish...”

The huntsman felt the soft laughter roll from him, smile warming his entire expression. He drew his hands away from the brunet, glancing over his shoulder for a moment before he turned in his arms. Those hands settled at his waist once more, thumbs stroking gently, as his own fingers found both the hollow of the man's throat and the curve of his cheek.

“That was _entirely_ terrible...” Qrow breathed, letting foreheads press against one another. The tender brush of a laugh washed over him, as that smile stole into his thoughts and swept everything else to the wayside.

“Here I thought it was pretty damn smooth,” came the gentle counter, the words drawing warm memories through both of them. Those hands squeezed lightly where they lay, and the huntsman felt his will to argue slipping through his fingers like so much sand. If any one thing _was_ terrible, it was the fact he was becoming a terrible influence on the man and thoroughly corrupting him, just as James warned him not to.

Not that he – or a certain someone else – minded in the slightest.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

Qrow let his gaze flick between green eyes, content in their closeness, as fingers drew further up to score through short brunet strands, keeping him right where he wanted him.

“Alright... let's talk...” he breathed, and it was all the invitation either of them needed as lips brushed, drinking deep from the warmth of one another before they met properly. Eyes closed as the snow continued to fall faint about them, settling light upon hair and clothing, and it was as if they'd never stopped talking at all.

***

Fingers pinched tiredly across the bridge of his nose, a languid press of stillness, and for a long moment, all James wanted to do was focus on little else but his breathing as he sat within the confines of his office.

With eyes closed, it was a simple matter of slowly and steadily breathing in, holding it deep in his chest for a few seconds, and then almost silently letting it sigh from him. He knew the day would leave him with a headache – as had most of them for the past gods knew however many months – and it would once again be a matter of dulling it enough for some scant hours of sleep. If only to await its inevitable return the following morning when the day's problems started anew.

It seemed all his life was destined to become, really, and the ironic smile brushed across his expression as he sat back in his chair, allowing hands to rest idly upon the armrests.

And it seemed a certain _someone_ was once again the cause for his headaches.

Blue eyes fell to his desk, a little lost to its surface, and he almost enjoyed the brief mental vacation a simple pause could give him. Almost. He still had the rest of the day to wrangle himself through, and the sigh tumbled free, long and low, as it emptied out of him.

With a single tap of fingertips to his desk, the screen came to life above it. A few more precise pecks to glowing keys, and he drew back once more, reclining in his chair and allowing eyes to trace across the words before him.

Gods, but he resisted the urge to give in to the low grumble upon his tongue, even as the warm smile touched his lips.

It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that he sighed wearily as the name Qrow Branwen crossed through his mind. Certainly not across his mission reports either, if what greeted him was to be believed, and blue eyes dropped sightlessly to the edge of his desk.

Still...

Fingers curled lightly about the armrest, and those blue eyes narrowed faintly in thought.

He'd found his happiness finally, and it was a long time coming. A _very_ long time, he realised with a delicate chuckle. But gods above did his friend deserve this chance. What right did he, or anyone else, have to deny him such a simple thing?

James brought his gaze back up to the screen, knowing his mind had already settled on the answer, and with a simple tap of a key, gave his blessing to the huntsman.

What were friends for, after all?


End file.
